


The Beginning of the End

by Aulophobia



Series: Hiding [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 90s technology, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Roller Coaster, Functional Depression, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Infidelity, Interior Decorating, Interior Decorating House Elves, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, References to Depression, Secret Relationship, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aulophobia/pseuds/Aulophobia
Summary: Harry is tired. Everyone in his life seems to be demanding he behaves a certain way and does certain things. Mapping his life out for him.  Then, as part of his Auror training programme, he is given the task of helping Draco Malfoy learn about muggles.  Harry finds himself relating to the man, who is as lost and broken as he is, in ways he never expected.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Series: Hiding [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730920
Comments: 18
Kudos: 167





	1. Escaping the Library

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prequal to One Last Mistake and will follow the story from Harry and Draco meeting again after the war right up until the moment One Last Mistake starts.  
> I have reshuffled the order of this series now this one is finished, so they are chronological, but feel free to read them in any order you feel like. One Last Mistake was written first, and originally meant to be a short stand alone fic. This one is all about the character development and events that lead up to Harry and Draco's actions in that story.
> 
> Please feel free to read the three stories in any order you feel like. They weren’t written chronologically and I’ve tried to make them all stand as whole stories in their own right.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes to the Manor on Ministry orders and discovers that those on the other side of the war suffered as much damage as the winning side did.

Harry felt nervous walking up to the gates of the Manor. The last time he’d been here wasn’t associated with the best memories. The snatchers, torture and Dobby dying. But he’d been assigned as Malfoy’s peer mentor, as part of the blonde prat’s probation. When he’d been approached about it, he’d resisted at first. It was only when Kinglsey had told him that no one else would do it that he caved. If Malfoy didn’t have an assigned mentor he’d be sent to Azkaban. However much he hated the git he didn’t think he deserved that. He’d been the one who’d spoken at Malfoy’s trial to ensure that didn’t happen in the first place. He wasn’t going to let it happen now, just because it meant he would have to spend time with the man. It was once a week for a year, with written reports on progress. An easy assignment. So here he was, waiting at the gates, for Malfoy to let him in.

A house elf came and showed him up to the imposing house. He had to take a moment to just breathe when they got to the doors. Working up his courage he stepped inside. 

“The Master’s in the library. I’m to show you to him.” The house elf squeaked.

“Go ahead, I’m following.”

They wound through the corridors. Harry had to fight not just turn and run straight back out. Not that it would have done any good. He had no idea how to trace back the many turns and connecting rooms they’d been through to get to this point. Still, the thoughts of the Death Eaters spending more than a year wandering through this place left him with a chill.

“The Master is in there.” The house elf said curtly, and with a crack disappeared.

“I guess I just go in then” Harry muttered to himself.

The library took Harry’s breath away. It was enormous. Books were shelved from floor to ceiling. The two gigantic windows the stretched the entire height of the room, which had to be at least the equivalent of 3 stories. The curtains were drawn though, so none of the summer sun was entering the room. It gave the whole place an air of melancholy. Harry made his way into the room trying to locate Malfoy. He didn’t seem to be on the ground level, so Harry headed towards the stairs leading to the mezzanine balcony. When he reached the top, he spotted him. He was curled up in an ancient looking armchair. The first thing Harry noticed was how defeated the man looked. It was a stark contrast to the arrogant boy who’d plagued him through school. He looked worse even than the memory Harry had of him in 6th year. This man not only had the same too thin face and body, as well as deep cut dark circles under his eyes, from back then, but also an air of having given up on everything. He was staring into space. It was like he was just waiting to fade away. He looked half dead already.

“Malfoy.” Harry announced his presence. The other man didn’t seem to have noticed him approaching.

The blonde man turned his head towards the sound. It was a slow and painful movement and Harry was sure it was the first time the man had moved in hours, if not days.

“Potter.” The voice was hoarse and sounded unused to talking.

“Can I sit?” Harry asked. He was unsure of the protocol in this situation. He wasn’t even sure there was a protocol for this.

“I suppose.”

Harry moved to sit on the chair opposite Malfoy.

“You were told I was coming?” Harry wasn’t sure. He’d expected the arrogant Malfoy he remembered greeting him at the door and sneering at the fact that ‘Potter’ had been sent to check up on him. He hadn’t expected to be sat in a darkened room with the shell of his former rival.

“Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have had the elf show you in.” The sarcastic comment made Harry smile. There was still something of the boy he’d once known and loathed there.

“So I’m meant to… I don’t know. Help support you reintegrate into society or something.”

“Very eloquent Potter. And how exactly are you planning to do that?”

“I’m not really sure. They’ve given me some lists of things we’re meant to do. Going to muggle places mostly. Make sure you don’t hex anyone when you see them. I’m meant to come and see you once a week for the next year.”

“Great, sounds wonderful.” The familiar drawl was there again. “How did I get stuck with such a fabulous probation officer.”

“I’m not your probation officer. I’m more… a peer mentor… or something. And you ended up with me because I’m a trainee auror and they thought it would be good for me… And also because no one else wanted to.” Harry confessed.

“Let me guess. If no one wanted to mentor me I’d have ended up in Azkaban. Noble Potter couldn’t let that happen, could he. Aren’t I already indebted to you enough? Why’d you have to go and make it worse? You should never have spoken at my trial. You should never have agreed to do this. I deserve to be there.”

“Malfoy don’t be a git. I obviously don’t think you deserve to be in Azkaban. I may not like you, but you don’t deserve that.”

“It’s not like this place is much better anyway. You know I haven’t left this room since they let me out of the Ministry cells. It’s one of the few places in the house that the fuckers my father let roam ‘round like they owned the place, never went. Books clearly held no interest for them.”

Harry didn’t know why Malfoy was confessing these things to him. It didn’t seem like Malfoy wanted Harry’s pity. That would have been completely out of character. It felt more like Malfoy was confessing the awful depths of his existence to Harry because he was the only person available, however unsuited he might be. Maybe he was trying to scare Harry off. Harry wasn’t going to be beaten that easily though.

“You never leave this room? How do you go outside? Where do you sleep?”

“Did you not hear me? I don’t go outside. I don’t leave this room. And as for sleep. When I can manage it, there is a small study the elves converted into a bedroom for me off the ground floor. Mostly though, I just fall asleep here.”

“Christ Malfoy. This isn’t a way to live.” It wasn’t pity Harry felt in that moment. It was anger. Anger at the world for allowing a person to be damaged by events outside of their control. Anger at Malfoy for letting what had happened reduce him to this. It’s not like he hadn’t been through hell in the last few years. He hadn’t let it crush him the way Malfoy obviously had.

“No, I suppose not.” Malfoy didn’t sound like he cared though and irked Harry. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Malfoy was supposed to care, and he needed to do something about it. The war had taken enough from him. It wasn’t going to take his school yard rivalry either. He knew it was an illogical way to think but it didn’t matter to him.

“Well then that is where we’re going to start with this whole mentoring thing. We’re getting you to live again.” His little speech earned him a small smirk off Malfoy.

“How noble Potter. But I think we’re done for the day. I’m tired. One of the elves will show you out.”

“Fine. But I’ll be here next week.”

It took three weeks for Harry to persuade Malfoy to open the curtains and let some light into the room. He’d battled each visit to try and get Malfoy to do something other than sit in that damned chair. Malfoy had always brought out the worst in him in the past. Now that same rivalry and stubbornness, that he used to make Malfoy react in school, was being used to make Malfoy escape the withdrawn introspection that he was trapped in. They sat under the windows, the sun streaming in, playing chess for hours until the house elves brought dinner into them. Harry was dreadful at chess, and the light playing off Malfoy’s hair wasn’t helping him concentrate. That Malfoy had managed to shower and wash his hair before Harry’s visit was dramatic progress. The house elves arrival made him realise how much time had passed. He tried to get up and leave, but Malfoy wouldn’t let him until after he’d eaten. That Malfoy wanted him to stay felt important, so he did. They ate the meal together. Harry had expected something grander but as he watched Malfoy pick at his food, barely eating half of what was in front of him, he guessed why they’d only been presented with a small and simple fare. When the house elves came to clear it away though, they looked ecstatic at the fact that any of it had been eaten. Harry wondered how little Malfoy ate when he was here alone. It made Harry think about this whole situation. It may have started as part of his job, but in only a couple of visits it seemed to have grown into something more. Hermione would have called it his saviour complex.

“Malfoy.”

“Yes, Potter”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Git.”

Malfoy smirked. The expression, though similar to the one that Malfoy had always used when he was younger didn’t hold any of the contempt it used to. Harry thought of it as a friendly, teasing expression. Somehow, he liked it. Particularly when he compared it to the mostly expressionless Malfoy of three weeks ago. He liked that he was the one who was able to get Malfoy to react.

“Look, if you’re okay with it. Do you think…maybe I could come over more than once a week?”

“Why the hell would you want to come to this depressing place more often than you’re required to?”

“I’m the only person you see, other than the elves.” It hadn’t taken Harry long to realise he was Malfoy’s only visitor. He didn’t know who else would visit anyway. Malfoy’s mother had escaped to France as soon as she’d been pardoned, and Lucius was in Azkaban.

“And what does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s just, if we’re going to make this whole ‘Rehabilitation’ thing work, I don’t think you should spend all your days alone, bar a couple of hours a week.” Malfoy rolled his eyes as Harry said this. Both of them thought the rehabilitation thing was a bit of a joke. Harry had quickly worked out it was just an excuse to have someone make sure Malfoy wasn’t doing anything illegal, or preferably, to catch him doing something evil so they could throw him straight into Azkaban. He was sure Malfoy knew too. Harry didn’t like that the Ministry were using him to do this, but at least it was him. Unlike everyone else, he actually didn’t want to see Malfoy thrown in prison.

“You just like my fantastic company.” Malfoy replied, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Stop being an arse, Malfoy. And actually I do like your company. You don’t expect the same things everyone else out there does. You just treat me as Potter.”

“I’m your own personal little recluse.”

“You’re a giant twat.” Harry said laughing. “Look I really need to go for today. Ron and Hermione were expecting me at the pub at least an hour ago. But I mean it about coming round more often.” Harry took a deep breath before he said his next thoughts out loud. It was something he wanted, not just because the Ministry had ordered him to take Malfoy to various muggle venues, but also because he thought it would be good for the other man. Being shut in this one room was not a healthy way to live. “I also think we should try leaving this room soon. Then you can be my private little, not so recluse.”

Malfoy stuck his tongue out at Harry making him laugh again and Harry was glad Malfoy seemed to have taken his suggestion well. It was always a tossup when he talked about doing things in the future, whether Malfoy would accept what he said or shut down completely. Malfoy was in a good mood today. He saluted cheekily, as Harry stood, dismissing him.

After that Harry started going round to the Manor at least every other day. Sometimes he’d only stay for an hour, other times he’d end up spending the whole day there. Being there more often Harry realised how much Malfoy had been hiding how hopelessly unhappy he was in their previous meetings. However bad Malfoy had appeared to be, he’d clearly been putting a huge amount of effort in appearing to be at least halfway functional. Now there were days, when Harry came, when Malfoy would sit silently in his chair and stare into space. On days like that, nothing that Harry said or did would drag him out of it. Other day’s though he got the brighter, teasing Malfoy, that he was becoming fond of. He’d been telling the truth when he’d told Malfoy that he enjoyed his company. Malfoy was an escape from the pressure the rest of world put on him. Even his oldest friends weren’t exempt from trying to tell him what was expected of him. He heard the hints, every time they were together, about how he and Ginny should get back together. How he was going to marry her and have three children before he was twenty-five. How he was going to be head auror before he was thirty. He hated it. He’d had his life mapped out by other people for so long. He would have thought, now he’d finally completed his life’s mission, as far as the world was concerned, they’d just let him be. Instead the world expected him to be their perfect saviour for the rest of his life. Everyone except Malfoy.

It was on one of Malfoy’s good days, a few weeks after Harry had started coming more regularly, that he brought up leaving the library again. 

“We should really try and go out somewhere soon.” Harry said and saw Malfoy visibly flinch but pushed on anyway. “Come on, you haven’t stepped outside this room in what, 2 months.”

“I’m perfectly happy in this room.” Malfoy pouted.

“You’re not and you know it. Please. For me.” Harry pleaded. “I am meant to show you muggle things. You’d be doing me a favour.” Harry tried to make the request sound playful and teasing. Trying to draw Malfoy into teasing him back. Instead Malfoy stayed silent for several minutes and Harry hoped he hadn’t pushed too far, and that Malfoy wouldn’t spend the rest of the day in the almost catatonic state that Harry still didn’t know how to deal with.

“I’m scared.” Malfoy eventually whispered.

“What of?” Talking was good. Malfoy almost never shared his feelings. Harry knew he couldn’t press too hard though, so he kept his voice soft. Urging and not demanding. He was rewarded when Malfoy continued.

“The corridors, mostly. But also the rest of the grounds. And then beyond that, there’s all the people who hate me.” Harry knew it was true. The whole world was against Malfoy right now. The righteous anger following the defeat of Voldemort was apparent everywhere, and Draco was probably the only marked Death Eater to have escaped a life sentence in Azkaban. More than that, he hadn’t even been locked up. Harry had fought for it and was glad, especially now he had gotten to know the blonde prat, but it didn’t change anything. Despite the general public attitude, he wanted to try and persuade Malfoy to leave the confines of his self-imposed prison.

“They don’t know you.”

“They know what I did.”

“They think they know what you did.”

“I took the mark.”

“You were a child.”

“So were you.”

“Yes and this child nearly killed you when we were sixteen by using an unfamiliar and dangerous dark spell. You’re not the only one who made mistakes. I’m not this sodding perfect saviour that everyone seems to want me to be. You were forced into an impossible situation. If I’d been in your position. If that psychopath had been threatening my family. I would have done exactly the same as you.” It was a truth that Harry hadn’t thought about, but as the words flowed uncontrolled out of him, he knew he’d stand by them. They’d both been put through more shit than anyone should reasonably expect of people who were barely more than children.

Malfoy started crying. Harry didn’t know why he did it, but he found himself kneeling in front of Malfoys chair and placing his hand on Malfoys thigh. He moved his thumb gently trying to provide comfort. Grey eyes looked down at him and locked with his. Harry found himself tugging Malfoy off the chair and onto the floor, into his lap. He stroked the blonde hair whilst the deeply unhappy man sobbed into his shoulder.

“The next good day.” Malfoy whispered when he finally stopped crying.

“Really?”

“Yes, the next good day we can try and leave this room.”

It was nearly a week before Malfoy had another good day. 

____________________

Harry opened the doors to the library. Malfoy was stood behind him. Harry could feel the fear radiating off the other man. He turned around to look at him.

“If you’re not ready we don’t have to do this.” Harry said, reassuringly. This was a big step, and however much he wanted Malfoy to do this, if he wasn’t ready, Harry wasn’t going to force him.

“No. I need to do this. You’re right. I can’t spend all of my life trapped in these four walls, scared to even step into the rest of my own home. I just need a moment.”

“Take as long as you need.”

They stood there in silence for several minutes.

Malfoy took a long deep breath with his eyes closed. He looked so fragile and vulnerable to Harry. It made him wish that he could wrap his arms around him and let him stay cocooned in the library. ‘His little recluse’, Draco had referred to himself as. It was true, but Harry didn’t want a Malfoy trapped in the trauma of the past. The day’s he liked Malfoy best, were the ones where he was reminded of the boy he used to be. Sharp quips and sarcasm. Someone he could rile up, and who knew just how to push his own buttons in return. “Okay, think I’m ready.” Malfoy finally said and started take deliberate steps towards the open door. When he actually stepped into the corridor he froze, and Harry could feel the other man’s panic rising. His breathing had become rapid and erratic and he looked like he was about to bolt. Harry did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed Malfoy’s hand and squeezed it gently. It was obviously the right thing to do. Malfoy started to calm down.

“Do you think you can move now?” Harry asked, when Malfoy’s breathing seemed to have settled back to a more regular pattern.

“Yes. But don’t let go.” Harry squeezed Malfoy’s hand harder in reassurance. Nothing would have made him let go.

They moved rapidly through the house, Malfoy leading the way, their hands entwined. When the stepped into the fresh air Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Running through the house like that didn’t exactly bring up great memories for him either.

“I did it. I actually did it.” Malfoy was smiling. That smile was enough to make up for his own unease in having to negotiate the corridors in a panic.

“You did. Now what?” Harry’s voice conveyed all the warmth and pride he felt. From the outside it might have looked like a minor achievement, but it had been weeks in the making and even with his own inexpert observations, he knew what it had taken Malfoy to even attempt, let alone actually succeed, in this monumental task.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

“You’re stronger than you think.” Harry gave Malfoy’s hand another squeeze. They still hadn’t let go of each other.

“Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere. There’s no way I’m heading straight back through those corridors now. I wish I never had to look at those corridors again.”

Harry had an idea. If looking at the corridors was part of the problem, what if they changed them. “You could redecorate them. Make them look different. Cover up the bad memories.”

“Do you know how big this sodding place is? It’s not like any decorators are going to come here and do it for us.” It wasn’t an outright no, which Harry took as a good sign. He also found he liked Malfoy grouping them together. That he thought of fixing the Manor as both of their tasks. That these weeks together had made them a team.

“We don’t have to do it all at once. And we can ask the elves to help. I’m sure they’d be overjoyed to do anything that makes you happier.” Harry knew this was true. The elves were absolutely devoted to Malfoy. Harry may not understand it but doing anything that made Malfoy even the slightest bit happier, improved the mood of every elf he met in the house. The creatures would do almost anything to please their Master, whether Malfoy, or himself, asked it of them or not. Harry was not above going behind Malfoy’s back in this matter either. As long as they weren’t explicitly forbidden to do something, they were more than inclined to take his suggestions if they benefited Malfoy. He didn’t think he’d have to resort to that in this case. He could see that Malfoy was interested in his idea.

“Fine” Malfoy snorted. “Let’s make the sodding elves happy”. The sunshine and fresh air were clearly doing wonders for his mood. The black cloud that Harry could sense around him, even on his best days, looked a little lighter. “How do we go about this redecorating thing?”

Harry took Malfoy to a muggle DIY store. Not only did the activity fit into one of those approved by the Ministry, but Harry didn’t think that venturing anywhere near other wizards was a good idea right now. Getting off the Manor grounds was a big enough step. If he were honest with himself, he was surprised that they’d even managed to make it more than two feet out of the library. Going anywhere where someone might recognise Malfoy as a former Death Eater, could only lead to disaster. The Ministry had it all wrong really, getting Malfoy used to the muggle world was the least the issues he now faced. Malfoy overcoming his upbringing and prejudices was a minor step compared to the rest of the world overcoming their fear and hatred. This conviction was reinforced the second they stepped into the store. Malfoy looked like a kid being shown into a sweet factory for the first time. He wandered down the isles looking at all the different paints, wallpaper, light fittings, and assortment of other things sold in this place, with a look of wonder on his face. Harry felt a warm glow watching his friend pick out everything he wanted. Because that was what Malfoy was now. Harry’s friend. Yes, he was a prickly sod, but he was a prickly sod who threw chess pieces at Harry when he lost a game, a gesture that always made Harry smile; who asked his elves to make treacle tart when Harry stayed for dinner, just because he knew the Harry liked it; who read passages from books with all the voices to make Harry laugh. He was a man who’d spent weeks trapped in the dark, staring into space, and was now practically bouncing in delight over the fact that there was such a thing as sparkly paint. There was something else there too. It had been creeping up on Harry over the weeks he’d spent at the Manor. Objectively, he’d always thought Malfoy was attractive, and if his friends were to be believed, always been a little obsessed with him. Something had changed though, as he slowly tried to ease Malfoy out of the depression that had had him completely in his grips when Harry had first come to see him. It was like every time he was able to make Malfoy feel even an iota less miserable, it drew him to the other man. The problem was that he also knew that he could never do anything about his attraction. He knew how the world, the Ministry, even his friends would see it. If anything ever happened between the two of them and it got out, Malfoy would likely end up in Azkaban, accused of using potions or the imperious on him. No one would believe he was attracted to Malfoy of his own free will, and if they did, they’d hate him, especially Hermione and the Weasleys. He didn’t know whether he could stand for his family to hate him. Still, making Malfoy smile, warmed him in a way nothing had ever done before. That making Malfoy happy, made him happy.

They bought more paint, wallpaper, and painting equipment than Harry thought was possible. It was certainly more than they could reasonably carry. Both of them had two full trolleys so stuffed with things that they were hard to push. Malfoy had chuckled and whispered to Harry, as they were standing in the checkout que, about how much his father would hate the Malfoy fortune being spent on muggle paint, that would be used to ‘despoil’ the ancestral home. Harry had an uneasy thought then. In the rush and excitement to get here he’d forgotten something fundamental.

“Do you have muggle money?” Harry whispered urgently, expecting the worst.

“I was sent this plastic thing a few weeks ago. I don’t really know how to use it, but the letter from Gringotts that came with it, said it was for muggle purchases.”

“It’s a credit card. Have you signed the back?” Harry was relieved. They might actually be able to pay for this. He didn’t think he could stand disappointing Malfoy over something so stupid as forgetting that they needed money to go shopping.

“My quill wouldn’t work. The ink kept on running.”

Harry rummaged in the small pouch he always kept with him he and pulled out a biro.

“Here, sign it now. Otherwise we can’t use it. I left my card at home and the amount of cash I’ve got on me is not going to cover this.”

Malfoy did as he was told, exclaiming in surprise, when the pen Harry gave him, wrote on the card without smudging. It made Harry’s heart leap seeing how something so simple as a cheap biro could make Malfoy smile.

“Do you need help getting these things to your car?” The cashier asked after they paid an extortionate amount of money for their supplies.

Malfoy looked at Harry quizzically and mouthed, “Car?”

“No, we should be fine.” Harry answered the cashier quickly. Thinking about it, he wasn’t sure how they were going to get all of this stuff back to the Manor. There were limitations to what magic could do. The two of them heaved the heavy trolleys outside before Harry discretely cast a feather light charm so they could maneuverer more easily. They snuck round the side of the building, to where the delivery trucks normally dropped off their goods. Harry looked around and couldn’t see anyone else.

“How are we going to get all of this back to the Manor?”

“I could call a couple of the elves to help us.”

“And if there spotted?”

“I don’t think we’ve got much choice. Even if we shrink all this the two of us are never going to be able to apparate it back.”

“Fine, call them, but be quick. I’ll keep watch.”

When the two of them got to the Manor they are both laughing uncontrollably. Harry’s sides and face actually hurt. 

“Christ that was close” Harry finally managed to gasp out, breathlessly.

“I can’t believe you obliviated that muggle.”

“What else was I supposed to do? The look on his face when he saw the elf disappear with an armful of wallpaper as he stepped out for a cigarette.”

“He did look rather funny. But you could have gotten into so much trouble.”

“We weren’t caught, so I guess that doesn’t matter. Besides, there have to be some advantages to being Harry Potter. So are we going to get started with this?” Harry replied, gesturing to the abundance of decorating paraphernalia sat just in the entrance.

“Sure. This was a good idea. Going back in doesn’t seem quite so intimidating now.”

The joy Harry felt at Mafloy’s words caused him to beam at the other man in happiness. This was exactly what he’d wanted out of the day.

They walked into the entrance hall slowly. Despite what Malfoy had said, Harry knew he was still petrified of being in here. Like he’d done before in the Library, he took Malfoy’s hand in his.

“Thank you.” The small voice came from beside him and he stroked the hand he held with his thumb, their fingers remaining intertwined.

“Think about the paints. The colours.” Harry wanted to distract Malfoy from whatever bad memories were starting to creep to the surface. He hoped that the delight they’d shared earlier, when they talked about redecorating, and when they were choosing colours, would help.

“Okay.” Malfoy still sounded a little shaky and quiet, but he didn’t shut down. Harry chose to take this as a good sign

“What colour should this wall be?” Harry asked, indicating the wall on his left. Currently it was dark green with several snooty looking portraits on it. They all seemed to be looking down at Harry and Malfoy with contempt.

“Purple. That pretty pinky purple. And the floor. We should change the floor.”

Giving Malfoy something else to focus on seemed to be helping.

“Good. What should we do to the floor?” Harry tried to keep his voice as gentle and even as possible. 

“Take all of this disgusting dark varnish off. They walked on this floor. He walked on it. It should be stripped clean.” 

Harry watched as Malfoy took out his wand and with a spell Harry didn’t know began to strip the dark varnish off the wood, leaving the pale floorboards underneath showing. There was anger in his wand movements. They were rapid and disjointed, but they remained effective. Maybe a little anger was a good thing. Already the entrance looked brighter, especially with the sunlight streaming in through the still open door.

“Where should I start?” Harry asked, not wanting to do anything without Malfoy’s permission. This was his project, even though it had been Harry’s idea. The whole point was for Malfoy to regain control of his own house.

“Get rid of all of those horrible portraits. I don’t want to have them looking at me every time I walk into my house.”

Harry did as he was told. He let go of Malfoy’s hand and began taking all of the portraits off the walls, dumping them unceremoniously on top of one another in one corner. He could hear muffled grumbling coming from the ones at the bottom of the pile. When he’d finished, he turned round to look at Malfoy, who’d almost finished with the floor. 

“What do I do with them now?” Harry asked.

Malfoy looked up from his task. “Just banish them somewhere.”

“Anywhere in particular?”

“There’s a dusty attic somewhere in this place. Send them there.”

“I don’t know where it is. They could end up anywhere.”

“Then send them anywhere. I don’t want to think about them” Malfoy sounded angry and a little frustrated, and Harry guessed that thinking about the Malfoy ancestors brought up feelings of guilt that he’d rather not think of. Guilt tied up with not only what happened here, but also how he felt about the family he had left. When Malfoy eventually looked at Harry’s face, some of the anger appeared to dissipate. Like he saw something there that to make him regret his outburst. “Fine, I’ll do it,” He sighed, and with a sweep of his wand portraits were sent to some far-flung corner of the enormous property.

“I think we’re ready for painting now.” Harry wanted to change the topic. He didn’t want Malfoy thinking too much about his family, and even more, his family’s tattered reputation. Didn’t want to lose the positive momentum they had managed to achieve so far. “Do you want me to cast and impervious charm over the floor?”

“Go for it.”

Whilst Harry did this, Malfoy walked over to the piles of paint tins that the elves had left by the door and started picking out the colours he wanted. “So, how exactly do we do this. I don’t know how to paint walls with magic. Do you?”

“Not a clue. But I know how to use the brushes and rollers. We can do it that way. If we need to, we can always investigate how to do it with magic later. I’m sure they’ll be a book on it somewhere, or maybe one of the elves will know. I don’t think we should take the time now to work it out. I think it’s more important that we get started.” Harry felt a desperate need to keep Malfoy in this good mood for as long as possible, and redecorating appeared to be helping.

“So do we just pick up a brush and paint over what’s there?”

“I think the wallpaper up there is a bit dark. It might show through. We should probably strip it first. I think between us, we could probably manage that with magic, without taking a wall down. I don’t think we could get a steam stripper to work in here with all the interference, besides there’s no electricity.”

“I didn’t understand half of what you just said, Potter. But it shouldn’t be too hard to modify the spell I used on the floor to take off the wallpaper.”

Harry found it fascinating watching as Malfoy closed his eyes and screwed up his face in concentration. He remembered him doing the same thing in school when he was trying hard to work out how to achieve something particularly difficult. It was as distracting now as it was back then. The little creases in Malfoy’s forehead were more captivating than they had any right to be.

“Okay, let’s try this.” Malfoy moved his wand in a complicated pattern and wallpaper started peeling off the wall, exposing the smooth plaster underneath. Whatever Malfoy had done went completely over Harry’s head. He didn’t think he could copy the motion, let alone cast if wordlessly with just one demonstration.

“You’ll need to show me. I didn’t know the first spell you did, let alone this one you seemed to have been able to come up with in less than 5 minutes. I have no idea how you did that.”

“I got rather good at modifying spells in 6th year.” Malfoy responded, and Harry could hear the pain in his voice, as well as see the look of unease cross his face. Sixth year had not been a good year. Malfoy shook it off by himself, before Harry could think of any kind of response, and continued. “The spell’s not too hard. You just need to do this with your wand. “Harry tried to concentrate as Malfoy repeated the complicated movement, his lithe wrists and long finger almost dancing. “- And say Detego. Think about peeling back the layers of wallpaper as you do it.”

Harry tried but nothing happened.

“You’re not moving your hand right. Let me help.” Malfoy sounded slightly exasperated. “How the hell did you ever finish school?” Harry decided not to mention that technically, he hadn’t.

Malfoy moved up behind Harry and reached from behind and to take the wrist of Harry’s wand hand in his own. Harry closed his eyes as Malfoy slowly directed his hand to make the movement for the spell. Harry could feel Malfoy’s warm breath on his neck. He tried to focus on the spell but was unable to concentrate on anything else but the sensation of the man behind him. Unable to hold back with the close contact, Harry found himself turning his head slightly and pressing his cheek into Malfoy’s. He used his free hand to reach back behind Malfoy’s head, his fingers tangling in the soft blonde hair.

“Harry…” Malfoy’s voice sounded breathy and desperate. Harry pressed into the blonde man, feeling his erection pushing into his back. Then the contact was broken as Malfoy stepped away, leaving Harry stood there breathing heavily. His body desperately wanting the contact back.

“We should get back to decorating.” Malfoy’s voice was strained.

“Draco…”

“No, Potter.” Harry can feel the distance between them as Draco switched back to using his surname and he didn’t like it. He did understand it though. 

‘Draco…... No, not Draco. Malfoy’s right. That was incredibly stupid.’ Harry thinks, before taking deep breath to calm himself, trying desperately to will away the erection that had started with just the briefest of touches between them. He was here to help Malfoy. On Ministry orders no less. Yes, he was doing significantly more than was required. The Ministry certainly didn’t expect him to become Malfoy’s friend. He’d known his attraction had been growing for weeks. He also knew he couldn’t do anything about it. He needed to be strong and fight against it. “Malfoy. I think I can manage the spell now.” He wasn’t sure, but anything would be better than having the other man try to direct him again, and the physical contact that it could potentially involve.

They silently start methodically stripping wallpaper, Harry more inefficiently than Draco; both men trying to keep a distance between each other. At least, Harry thought, Malfoy hadn’t regressed into his depression, still always noticeable just below the surface, completely. Getting Malfoy out of the prison he’d created had been a significant and essential. A week ago he would have expected Malfoy to retreat into himself from a much less distressing event. When they’d finished, Malfoy went to grab the paint and carried it over to Harry. The pout that Malfoy made with his mouth as he tried and failed to get the lid off went straight to Harry’s groin, and he had to struggle not to just go over to the blonde man and kiss it off his face. Harry’s resolve, to not act on his feelings and impulses, was weakening at an alarming rate.

“Let me help” Harry tried to distract himself from what he desperately wanted to do. Grabbing one the screwdrivers Draco insisted they bought, even though Harry swore repeatedly they weren’t needed for painting, he worked the lid off the paint tin.

“I thought you told me we didn’t need those. You tried to argue with me for 10 minutes in the store about it. Who was right?” The teasing tones that Harry had grown so fond of edging back into Malfoy’s voice.

“You’re a genius. You are always right Malfoy. I bow down to your supreme knowledge.” Harry was fighting a losing battle; however wrong it may be. He couldn’t help flirting when Malfoy was like this. This was Malfoy that was missing when he first came to the Manor. The Malfoy that he’d managed to pull back to the surface. “Now go grab a couple of those trays and the rollers. I’ll show you how to paint the walls.”

Malfoy did as he was told and brought the requested items to Harry. Harry couldn’t help but grin at the expressions Malfoy made as he watched, fascinated, as Harry poured paint into the tray and demonstrated how to use the roller. He tried to keep his thoughts focused on what he was doing. Unfortunately, Malfoy’s first attempts at getting paint on the walls are adorably disastrous. How was he supposed to win against this?

“How have you already managed to get paint on you?” Harry manages to say, between the chuckles of laughter Malfoy’s painting has induced.

“I’ve done nothing of the sort.” Malfoy replied. Harry lets his eyes drop to Malfoy’s trousers. Malfoy follows his gaze, looking down at his trousers to the smudge of paint, the pale purple showing up starkly against the black cloth. Harry wants so desperately to kiss the irritated scowl from Malfoy’s lips. “I’ve clearly got a crap instructor.” Draco’s haughty tone make Harry want to start laughing all over again, but he resists.

“Come here. Let me show you how to do it properly then.”

Harry grabs the roller out of Malfoy’s hands and knows he’s made a mistake almost immediately as their fingers touch for just a second. Even from the slightest of touches, Harry can feel a warm tingle. He pulls away and applies more paint to roller to distract himself. He can feel Malfoy’s eyes boring into him. It’s too much. Harry turns towards Malfoy and grasps both of his wrists. The gasp that Malfoy lets out is like music to Harry’s ears. He pulls the blonde man into him, moving Malfoy’s hands so they are wrapped around his neck, then placing his own on Malfoy’s thin waist. Malfoy is looking down and breathing heavily, but he’s not pulling back.

“Look at me Malfoy.” Harry pleads.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I do, I won’t be able to pull away.”

Harry lifts one of his hands to Malfoy’s face, urging it upwards until their eyes meet. Before Harry is able to lean in and kiss Malfoy, he is being pushed backwards against the wall. Their mouths meet greedily, and it feels like bliss. He can feel Malfoy’s hands tug gently at his hair. His own hands are at Malfoy’s waist. He wishes their damn clothes weren’t in the way. He wants to feel Malfoy properly. He eases his thumbs into the waistband of Malfoy’s trousers, relishing the feel of the smooth skin, and is rewarded with a desperate groan. Harry responds by pulling the other man closer. Pressing their bodies tight against each other. Malfoy’s hands have found their way inside Harry’s t-shirt, nails digging into Harry’s back with lust. Harry can feel the hardness in Malfoy’s trousers rutting up against him, sending bursts of pleasure through him. He doesn’t think he can hold on much longer.

“Malfoy…. I think I’m…”

“Potter… don’t hold back. I want to see the look on your face as you come in your pants.” The longing in his voice almost sends Harry straight over the edge. Then Malfoy gently nips at Harry’s lower lip with his teeth. It’s all it takes. Harry can’t hold on any longer. 

When the waves of pleasure finally cease, Harry slides down the wall. All ability to use his legs has temporarily escaped him. He looks up at Malfoy still standing over him. He can see that he’s still hard. He tries to reach up a hand to pull Malfoy down to him, wanting to make Malfoy come undone as completely as he is, but it’s beyond his ability in that moment.

“Don’t worry. You know it’s a compliment that I was able to reduce you to this just from rubbing up against you. Besides I’m perfectly capable of managing this myself.”

Harry watches in awe as Malfoy very deliberately undoes the button and fly of his trousers, and eases himself out. Harry doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful than Draco Malfoy slowly pleasuring himself in the entrance hall of his ancestral home, surrounded by pots of paint, with the early evening sun shining on him.

When he’s done Malfoy sits down next to Harry and leans up against the wall too. Harry reaches over to take his hand and intertwine their fingers, then leans over and kisses Malfoy lightly on the lips.

“Well that was certainly one way to paint a wall.” Harry says, still feeling overwhelmed by what they’ve just done.

“Not quite what I had in mind. But I have to say it was fun. And it certainly leaves a new memory in this place.”

“A better memory?”

“Yes Potter. A better memory.”

Malfoy snuggles into Harry’s side tightly, and for the first time in a long time Harry feels truly happy. 

Harry thinks that he may have drifted off. It’s starting to get cooler and the light coming in through the door isn’t quite so bright.

“Malfoy, what’s the time?”

“Not sure.” Harry watches as Malfoy fumbles next to him and grabs a wand. He casts a tempus charm. “It’s just gone 7pm.”

“Crap, I was afraid of that. I have to go. I’m meant to be meeting people for drinks this evening.” Harry untangles himself and stands up.

“Potter.” Malfoy snorts. “How soon do you to go meet your friends?”

“Why? Do you need me to help you back to the library, or are or trying to tempt me to stay a little longer?”

“I think I should be able to get back there by myself. If I need to, I can always blindfold myself, like I did the first day, and get one of the elves to lead me. And I always want you to stay longer, but that’s not why I was asking.”

Harry didn’t like the idea of Malfoy blindfolding himself to get back through the corridors but decided not to say anything. That Malfoy is willing to try to get there alone is more progress than Harry had expected. “What then?” Harry asks.

“You might want to go home and change first.”

Harry thought about it. His trousers were still slightly damp and sticky. He readjusted them.

Malfoy laughed as he watched from the floor. “Actually I wasn’t just talking about the trousers. It might be kinda hot to imagine you sat with your friends in the clothes you spilled your load in for me. No, you actually have paint all down your back and in your hair.”

Harry reaches his hand up to his hair and feels the rapidly drying paint. “Fuck. I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that Harry practically ran down the lawn out of the Manor, followed by the jubilant sound of Malfoy laughing.


	2. Three Gardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry doesn't know how to talk to his friends any more.

Harry ended up being 20 minutes late to meet Ron and Hermione at the pub. Try as he might he could not get all of the damn paint out of his hair. Eventually he just gave up and left it. When he walked into the familiar London pub, he saw his friends over at their usual corner table. He waved at them before heading to the bar to order a pint. This pub was pretty lax on checking IDs, and even if they did check, a quick confundus usually took care of it. It wasn’t like he was far off his 18th birthday anyway, and both of his friends could legally buy alcohol, even if he couldn’t.

“Hey mate.” Ron said as Harry sat down at the table. “Been up to much today?”

“Not really.” Harry didn’t want to tell his friends where he’d been today. They didn’t know that he was seeing Malfoy for work, let alone voluntarily spending time at the Manor. Ron, in particular, was still very angry about the war. Not that Harry could blame him. Fred’s death had hit the whole Weasley family hard. Hermione was more reasonable, usually, but he knew that anything involving the blonde Slytherin was likely to cause her temper to flare too. 

“Why are you late then?” Hermione enquired.

“Just got caught up and forgot the time.” 

“You know you have paint in your hair. Have you been decorating Grimmauld?”

Harry should have known Hermione would batter him with questions. She never could leave anything alone. Going along with her seemed to be the simplest route to take. It was easier than making something up entirely and opening himself up to more questions. He didn’t like lying to his friends, but he could let them assume it was Grimmauld Place he was decorating. Besides how else was he going to explain the paint. It wasn’t difficult to predict how well it would go down if he told them he’d had Malfoy pressing him up against a freshly painted, and still wet, wall earlier.

“Yeah. If I’m going to live there, I thought it would be better if the place actually looked like a home.”

Harry talked briefly about going to buy paints that afternoon. Fabricating a story based on a half-truth was definitely easier than lying outright. Harry would rather they didn’t talk about him at all though. He managed to steer the conversation onto Ron and Hermione’s day eventually. It was much easier to listen and nod at the right points than it was to talk about himself. He even found himself enjoying their company. Sitting here in a slightly crowded pub, Harry felt in a better than he’d done in weeks. He knew he’d probably been neglecting both of his friends recently, with all the time he spent in the Manor’s library with the blonde man he knew they hated. He’d spent the best part of a year with only the two of them for company, and he thought he was probably being unfair in not wanting to use his newly acquired freedom over his life, to spend time with them now. They didn’t always spend their time badgering him about his life and what he was going to do with it. Sometimes they were happy just talking about the things they’d enjoyed during their day. The things that amused them and made them happy. It wasn’t their fault that the only thing that seemed to make him happy these days he couldn’t talk to them about. Harry tried to resolve himself to try harder with them, but in his heart, he knew that he probably wouldn’t.

“You coming to mum’s on Sunday? You missed last week.” Ron said as he came back to the table with a third pint for himself and Harry, and a glass of white for Hermione. 

“Probably.” Harry didn’t feel enthusiastic about a day at the Weasleys. He remembered going there before the war and it being filled with joy and the feeling of family. The few times he’d been back there since didn’t feel the same. 

“Ginny misses seeing you. She thinks you’ve been avoiding her.” Hermione said, pointedly.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve just been busy with Auror training and stuff. Besides, after everything that happened, I wanted to give her some space.” Again the half-truths were easier than outright lies, and the more he told the simpler it was, and the less guilty he felt. He’d barely thought of Ginny at all since he’d started going to the Manor to see Malfoy. If he was honest with himself, he knew he didn’t really miss her. Certainly not in the way he thought he should. When they’d broken up a year ago, he’d thought she was everything. That he could never love anyone like that. He didn’t want to tell her his feelings had changed. Didn’t want to see her hurting more than she already was.

“Well Mum’s not going to let you get away with avoiding coming this week. If you’re not there she’ll come to Grimmauld and drag you to the burrow by your ears.”

“Fine. I’ll be there.” Harry replied sullenly, his light-hearted mood from earlier quickly dissipating. “Look, it’s getting late. I should probably head home. I’ll see you guys on Sunday.” 

Harry downed the last of his pint and got up. He noticed the looks of concern on his friends faces but chose to ignore them and walked out of the pub. Finding a deserted alley he apparated home.

Once at home he headed straight to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a large and very strong drink. Somehow over the last few weeks he’d ended up living two lives. One he wanted to avoid, where he felt guilty in half the conversations; the other where he laughed and smiled. The problem was that it was all the wrong way around. He hated that seeing his friends had become a chore. They pushed him to talk about himself, resulting in him, more often than not, lying about what was actually going on with his life. Being with Malfoy was the opposite. Even when Malfoy was in one of his blackest days, and Harry could barely get a reaction out of him, he wanted to be there. 

“Fuck!” Harry shouted to the empty house before swallowing the last of his drink. Things were meant to be easier now Voldemort was gone, instead he was a mess who felt hollow around everyone but the stupid blonde Slytherin. Before he’d started going to the Manor, he’d thought he was coping well with everything, but looking back he knew he hadn’t been. Every week that passed following the final battle, he felt a little less like the person he used to be. He was tempted to get another drink but decided against it and headed up to bed. That night his dreams were filled with the blonde man. The two of them dancing together in the library, smiling and laughing at each other. The walls sparkled with glittery paint. Sunlight streamed in through the open curtains. A cold swept through the room, the atmosphere changing dramatically. The curtains closed themselves with no warning, and the room was plunged into darkness. He could feel people around them watching. They weren’t smiling. They were glaring. Harry could feel fear pouring off the man in his arms. He tried to place himself between the hostile crowd, which was getting larger and larger, and the frightened man. Then the people in the crowd were grabbing at him, dragging him away. The mob was shouting at the blonde man curled up at the floor. He tried to free himself, to go back and protect the man on the floor but there were too many of them. There was a flash of green light and a scream. 

Harry woke up, shaking and sweating. He tried and failed to get back to sleep. Around dawn he abandoned his attempts and went to shower. He had told Malfoy he’d be there today. Normally he arrived at some point before lunch on his days off, but after his nightmare he knew he couldn’t wait that long. Even though he knew it had just been a dream he felt an overpowering urge to make sure Malfoy was okay. As soon as he was dressed, he apparated to the Manor. The house elf that greeted him was clearly anxious about something, opening the door and disapparating immediately without even a hello. Harry knew that that didn’t bode well. He walked past the barely started decorating in the entrance hall and made his way through the corridors that led to the library. When he entered the room was dark and the curtains drawn. He’d been right about the house elf’s behaviour. It was the same whenever Malfoy was having a bad day. He made his way up to the mezzanine balcony. The blonde man was sat in the chair where Harry had first seen him. Despite the fact it wasn’t even 8am yet he had a glass of whiskey in his hand. Malfoy looked like he hadn’t slept. Clearly the backlash from yesterday was worse than Harry had expected it to be. He internally cursed himself for going out with his friends, instead of staying and helping Malfoy back here. Harry moved towards Malfoy slowly, and knelt in front of him. He eased the glass out of his hand and put it on the table. Malfoy didn’t resist, yet he didn’t speak or turn to look at Harry either; he just continued to stare into space. The silence was almost unbearable. Harry wanted more than anything else just to pull Malfoy into his arms; wanted the happy smiling Malfoy from yesterday. He knew from previous occasions, when Malfoy had been like this, that there was almost nothing he could do to drag Malfoy back out of the hole he was trapped in. Still, Harry had to try. He put a hand of Malfoy’s leg. There was no reaction. 

“Malfoy.” Harry whispered and moved his thumb, kneading the area on Draco’s thigh he was touching. Several long seconds passed. Harry was holding his breath. Willing a Malfoy to do anything. He let his breath out in a rush when Malfoy slowly turned his head down towards him. Now Malfoy was looking at him, he could see tear stains on his cheeks and the tell-tale red puffy eyes that spoke of hours crying. Harry stood, keeping his eyes fixed on Malfoy’s. He lifted the blonde man from the chair and sat down, easing Malfoy into his lap. He pulled Malfoy into him, wrapping his arms around the too thin frame. He found himself stroking blond hair. Harry didn’t say anything, just let Malfoy relax in his arms until he eventually fell asleep. Harry felt his own eyes become heavy, the weight of his own sleepless night pressing on him. 

The weight shifting in his lap woke Harry. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he felt significantly more rested than he had when he’d arrived here that morning.

“Stop your squirming Malfoy.” Harry whispered, his eyes still shut, keeping his arms tightly wrapped around the other man, not wanting to let him go.

“Potter. Why exactly am I on your lap? And can you please let me go.” Clearly sleep had helped Malfoy escape from the horrible blank blackness.

Harry opened his eyes and found the grey ones staring at him.

“You’re on my lap because I put you there. And I don’t know whether I’m ready to let you go.”

“Potter. You have to let me go. We can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what exactly? I can’t comfort you when you’re upset. Can’t touch you when it’s all I can think about. When I got here this morning you had shut down. I don’t think you know how much it hurts me when you’re like that. I know you can’t help it. But I can’t help wanting to help you either. I felt like it was all my fault for leaving yesterday. But it had been such a good day, and you were in such a good mood.”

“It wasn’t your fault Potter. I knew I’d crash. I didn’t want you to be here to see it. And you had to go see your friends.”

“You’re my friend too.” This came out almost as a whisper.

“I can’t be your friend, Potter. I spent all night going over and over all the ways this is going to go horribly wrong. You have your friends. Friends you can be seen in public with. You need to stop coming here.”

Harry tried to interrupt at this point. There was no way in hell he was going to stop coming and have Malfoy thrown into Azkaban. Malfoy stopped him though, and as if he’d read Harry’s mind, continued speaking. “Fine, just the once a week then. You can check up on me. File your reports. But we can’t be friends. And we certainly can’t do this.”

“But yesterday.” Harry pleaded.

“Yesterday was a mistake.”

“It didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”

“Potter. Have you not been listening to a word I’ve been saying? If anyone finds out what happened yesterday, I’ll be accused of using magic in some nefarious way to control you. Even if they just find out that you’re visiting here more than you should officially, you’ll end up in trouble with the Aurors, and I’ll end up locked away under suspicion of manipulating or tricking you.”

“I won’t let them.”

“Very noble of you Potter. But there’s no changing who I am, or what I did. The world has every reason to hate me. You know that they hate and mistrust me. Even the word of the Saviour isn’t going to change that. You’ve already done too much for me in the public eyes. Now let me up. Please Potter. Don’t make this worse than it already is.”

Harry released his arms and Malfoy got up. Harry felt cold and empty. He knew that everything Malfoy had said made sense. It didn’t help though. He just wanted the idiot blonde back in his arms. Wanted to run his fingers through the silky hair. Wanted to kiss away every tear and dark thought.

“You should go now, Potter. It’s after lunch and I’m sure you have something else that you should be doing.” Malfoy’s voice was icy as he said this, and he wouldn’t look towards Harry. Harry eased himself up out of the chair. He walked towards where Malfoy was standing and put a hand on his shoulder, wanting him to turn and face him. It was shrugged off instantly. Harry felt the pain of rejection acutely.

“Fine Malfoy.” Harry said more harshly than he meant to. He softened his voice before continuing. “I’ll be here on Monday. Just, please do one thing for me. Try and leave this room. I don’t care if you need to be led through the house with your eyes closed, but please try and get outside.” He didn’t want Malfoy to lose all the progress they’d made together over the last weeks. Harry didn’t know whether his plea would be listened to, but there wasn’t much more he could say. Malfoy wanted him gone. He turned and left. He’d just reached the bottom of the staircase when he heard Malfoy’s voice from the top of the stairs. 

“I’ll try. I can’t promise. But I’ll try.”

“Thank you.” Harry said before he walked out of the library and proceeded to make his way through the house, and off of the Manor grounds.

Harry felt lost when arrived back at Grimmauld Place. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Over the last several weeks, without him realising, time with Malfoy had become the centre point of his life. Looking round the dark and gloomy surroundings was depressing. The whole place had an air of being unloved and unwanted. Fitting really, given that was how Harry felt about himself most of the time. While it wasn’t a nice atmosphere, it was at least fractionally better than how Malfoy’s home felt. He was helping Malfoy get rid of the demons in the Manor, why couldn’t he do the same here. Besides, Harry thought, with only the barest hint of guilt, he had told Ron and Hermione he was redecorating. It wouldn’t do if they turned up and the place still looked its usual dank self. He didn’t think he wanted to do it himself though. Decorating without Malfoy at his side wouldn’t feel right. He didn’t even want to pick out colours. He’d pay someone else to do the lot. He was sure Kreacher could help direct whoever he hired. He wondered where he could find decorators for a wizarding house. His 7 years of knowledge about magic was limited. There were still things that people like the Weasleys assumed he’d know, but he just didn’t, and it often left him feeling frustrated. The only thing he could think of was looking someone up in the yellow pages, but with the ambient magic in this place he couldn’t hire a muggle. There must be a magical equivalent. He thought he remembered Fred and George talking about advert space in a large yellow doorstop a few years ago. It could be the same publication. He was sure there was one somewhere amongst the pile of junk mail and free trial disks for AOL by the door. Sometimes he wished he’d left the Fidelius and muggle repelling charms on his property, but it hadn’t felt right. If he was going to live here, he didn’t want to cut himself off from the rest of the community, although it was London and not talking to neighbours was pretty par for the course. Still, it would have avoided large amounts of the mail that he couldn’t be bothered to deal with. He usually just let it pile up, much to Hermione’s disgust, on his door mat. Today though, his laziness might just have helped him. He flicked through the thick book until he reached the interior decorating section. He ran his finger down the page and was surprised when he felt a tingle of magic as he did so. Concentrating on the book he undid the spell that protected the wizarding advertisements from muggles. There were several different decorating companies on the page. He spent the rest of his day calling them and getting various quotes for sorting out his house, and eventually selecting one. They would be by on Monday and he gave directions to Kreacher as to what he wanted. He had no plans on allowing the people he’d hired to know who exactly they were working for. He already had too many business’s and restaurants using his name to bring in customers, just because he happened to have been there once at some point. He wanted the job done, not to become the figurehead of a publicity campaign.

Harry woke the next morning still feeling tired. He’d spent half the night drifting in and out of unpleasant dreams. He wasn’t due at the burrow till 11am but at 7am he finally gave up his fitful attempts at sleeping and went downstairs. He decided to make breakfast himself, rather than have Kreacher do it. He ended up burning the scrambled eggs and toast but put it on a plate anyway. He took one bite and thought better of it. He scraped the whole mess into the bin. He felt bad leaving the kitchen looking like an explosion of eggshells and dirty pans, but after the disastrous attempt at breakfast, he wanted to get out of there. He wanted to go to the Manor. Harry resisted and instead got into his running gear and left the house. When he got back an hour later, he was hot and sweaty. He was also frustrated. He had meant to use the run to get Malfoy out of his head, but instead spent the entire time dreaming up various fantasies where he and Malfoy were together. It seemed there was no way to turn his thoughts away from the Slytherin. If that was what his brain was going to do then he would just go with it. He was too tired today to fight anymore. He got into the shower, relaxing in the warmth of the water. His hand found his cock. Picturing the blonde in there with him, he began slowly stroking. It didn’t take long to find and rhythm and for the hot white cum to pour out over his hand. It wasn’t the most satisfying wank he’d ever had, but it had done the job. He finished washing and got dressed. It was still early but if he remained by himself, he’d end up back at the Manor and miss lunch at the Weasley’s all together. The only other place he could think of going was to see Teddy.

Andromeda welcomed him warmly when he arrived. He accepted her offer of tea and she went off to the kitchen to make it. Teddy was lying on a playmat batting at the unicorn swinging over it. Harry walked over to the 5-month-old and sat next to him. Noticing Harry, Teddy stopped playing and stared. Harry watched as his eyes turned green to match his own. He picked up the baby and took him over to the sofa. Sitting Teddy on his lap facing him, he played ‘This is the Way the Lady Rides’ over and over, delighting at the happy giggles from the baby. When Andromeda came in with the tea, she suggested taking it into the garden. He carried Teddy out and the three of them passed a pleasant morning until Teddy started grumbling and getting tired. He handed the baby over to Andromeda so she could put him down for his nap. 

Harry arrived at the Burrow late. His morning with Teddy and Andromeda had been so easy and relaxing he completely lost track of time. He seemed to be doing that a lot whenever he was meant to be seeing his friends, or the Weasleys. Harry knew he should probably feel bad about it. But like with the ever-increasing number of lies, he couldn’t bring himself to care that much. He was rapidly becoming a pretty crap friend. Ron walked out the front door as he was making his way down the garden path.

“Mate, you’re late. Again.”

“Sorry about that. I was having tea with Andi and my godson.”

“Well you’re here now. Mum was just about ready to throw a fit and come and get you herself. I did warn you that would happen. She’s in the kitchen, go let her know you’re here and then come out into the garden. We’re setting up a game of Quidditch.” It felt so typical, whenever Harry had spent a morning doing something he would like to talk about, no one asked about it. If he’d been with Malfoy, he got bombarded with questions about what he’d been doing.

After Molly had chastised him and hugged him in turn for being late and not coming over often enough Harry went out back. Most of the Weasleys were already up in the air. Harry didn’t feel much like playing Quidditch. He’d rather lost his enthusiasm for flying. His last time on a broom hadn’t exactly been pleasant. Escaping the room of requirement being chased by demonic creatures of living flame, still haunted his nightmares. He knew it haunted Malfoy too. He didn’t care whether he ever sat on a broom again. Hermione was sat reading, so he joined her.

“You not going up there?” Hermione asked, putting her book down.

“Nah. Don’t feel like it. Bit tired.” Like when Ron didn’t ask about Teddy, Harry was almost disappointed when Hermione didn’t press further. Didn’t ask him why he’d lost his interest in flying. He didn’t like talking about his feelings, but at least she’d be showing a proper interest in him. He felt so unsettled and out of sorts today, that taking about himself didn’t seem like such a painful prospect. But she didn’t, so he didn’t say anything. He decided to change the subject. “You reading anything interesting?” 

“Just trying to get some studying in. You would not believe how much there is to learn about magical law. Some of it is so outdated though, and there is a ridiculous amount of sexist and oppressive pieces of legislation about what women are supposed to and not supposed to do.” Hermione had decided to go into politics and was currently studying to become a lawyer. It wasn’t difficult to get her to start talking about her course and opinions on all current political matters. Harry sat and listened to her, adding in ‘yes’, ‘no’ or ‘umm’ whenever it seemed appropriate. He didn’t think she even realised he wasn’t actually listening.

“Lunch is ready.” Molly called, pulling Harry out of his daydream. Those playing Quidditch all landed, slinging their brooms down in a heap. They all looked out of breath but happy. Harry pulled himself to his feet and sat at the table. Ginny took the seat next to him, to his dismay.

“Hey Harry. I haven’t seen much of you recently?”

“Been busy. You know Auror training stuff.

“Enjoying it?”

“Sometimes.” The only bit of his Auror training Harry actually enjoyed was meeting Malfoy and he’d long since stopped thinking of it as work. If it weren’t for the weekly reports he had to fill in, he would have completely forgotten it was meant to be part of his job at all. 

“Well, I’m sure it will get better once you’ve finished your training and actually get to do the job properly. You always wanted to be an Auror and you’ll be amazing at it. You were made to catch Dark Wizards.” Ginny leaned in close as she said this and put one hand on his knee. He wanted to tell her to stop touching him. To not tell him what his life was meant to be. He couldn’t bring himself to. The same way he couldn’t bring himself to tell her he didn’t want to get back together. He knew he shouldn’t be stringing her along but didn’t want to make her and the whole family unhappy if he told the truth. They were all already unhappy enough after losing Fred. Maybe in a few months it would be better. Maybe she would notice that he just didn’t like her like that anymore. It wasn’t like they’d officially gotten back together. It was just that everyone assumed they would. So he let her continue to flirt as he picked at his food. Even though he’d skipped breakfast, and all he’d had to eat so far today was a few bites of biscuit, that Teddy had mostly stolen and drooled over, he wasn’t hungry. The problem was, he didn’t want to be here at all. It made him sad. But what made him worse was that none of these people, who were meant to be his closest friends and family, even noticed.

As soon as they’d finished eating and Molly had cleared the table, Harry made his excuses, saying he had a report to write, and left. Molly chastised him for working too hard and made him promise to come back soon. She wouldn’t have him disappearing on her. He’d hugged her and said he’d try to make it next week. As soon as he stepped out of the Burrows wards, he apparated straight to the Manor. He really had planned to wait until tomorrow, when he’d told Malfoy he’d be by, but spending the day around the people who were meant to be his family had sapped him of his ability to cope. The way he’d left it with Malfoy hadn’t helped either. He hadn’t been able to get the blonde man off his mind the entire day. 

A house elf greeted him at the door as usual.

“We wasn’t expecting you Mister Potter. The Master is in the water garden. Is you going there to see him? Maybe yous can be persuading him to have something to eat.”

Harry was pleased that Malfoy had decided to leave the library, although he was concerned the house elf had implied his Master wasn’t eating again. “Yes, I’ll go there. Could you tell me the way and send us a picnic in about half an hour?”

The house elf gave him directions and promised him food would be delivered. Harry made his way round the back of the property, then through the series of gardens that led to where Malfoy should be. The garden he found Malfoy in was beautiful. The mix of flowers and scents in the air was heady. Malfoy was sat on the edge of a lily covered pool, his trousers rolled up and his feet in the water. The sunlight was reflecting off his hair, and although there was an aura of sadness around him, he looked more at peace than he usually did in the library.

“I didn’t know the Manor had gardens like this?” Harry said, and Malfoy turned to look at him in surprise.

“It was my Mother’s. You weren’t supposed to be here today.”

“I know. I just had a bit of a crap day. Well not crap exactly. But it made me want to see you.”

“Having a crap day makes you want to see me?”

“Being here makes me happy.”

“You’re an idiot Potter.” Malfoy snorted. As always Malfoy’s amusement improved Harry’s mood.

“I know. I missed you, you prat. Can I come and sit next to you? The water looks nice.”

Malfoy shuffled over slightly, and Harry rolled up his trousers and sat next to him. The water was cool and refreshing and he let his legs sway slightly, creating gentle ripples on the surface. Sitting here with Malfoy felt peaceful. 

“You know this doesn’t change anything right?” Malfoy eventually said. “This thing between us can’t happen.”

“So you admit there’s something here then.” Harry moved slightly closer, so their fingers were touching.

“Yes there’s something.” Malfoy closed his eyes. He didn’t break the contact between them, so Harry started to stroke his arm. “Harry…” The tone was pleading but Harry wasn’t sure whether Malfoy was asking him to stop or continue. 

“Draco. I want you and I don’t care about anything else right now.” Harry reached up and touched Malfoy’s face. Tracing the outline of his lips with his thumb. Stroking his cheek. He ghosted his lips across Malfoy’s jaw. He could hear Malfoy’s breathing quicken and feel Malfoy’s foot grazing up and down his legs in the water.

“This is going to be a huge mistake.” Malfoy whispered against Harry’s lips, before he kissed him.


	3. Keeping Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco's relationship progresses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, all grammar. spelling mistakes and typos are my own - and I'm sure there are countless numbers of them.  
> 

Since the day Harry turned up after lunch at the Weasleys, both himself and Draco stopped trying to resist their mutual attraction. He ended up spending almost every evening with Draco, as well as large chunks of his days off. He’d been upset that they hadn’t managed to spend his 18th birthday together, but the two of them had celebrated the next day. He’d much preferred his celebration at the Manor, with Draco teasing him about his hangover before giving him a delightfully memorable blow job, than the night he’d spent out clubbing with the remnants of the DA. Ron and Hermione still dragged him to the pub every other week or so, and he had to put up with Ginny’s flirting most Sunday’s. She kept on trying to join them on pub nights out, but he put his foot down with that. Not only was she not eighteen yet, but he told her that him spending time with his friends without her, was important. He was looking forward to her going back to finish her final year at school, further limiting their time together. But Molly wouldn’t let him miss too many family lunches, meaning Sundays with Ginny were inescapable. The only other place he actually enjoyed being, apart from with Draco, was with Teddy. Teddy made no demands on him, other than wanting his attention. He didn’t expect Harry to behave a certain way. He wasn’t a tragic hero, who’d overcome impossible odds to save the world from a megalomaniac to Teddy. He was just the person who came and played games and sang nursery rhymes, who let him drool all over his robes when he fell asleep on Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry had slotted each part of his life into compartments. Compartments that weren’t allowed to interact. Compartments that didn’t realise that the other parts of Harry’s life even existed. Only Draco got to see all of him. Currently, he was trying to deal with his increasing frustration at the work compartment. He was rapidly growing to hate his Auror training programme. Most of the other recruits, and even the instructors, treated him like he could do no wrong. He was _their_ perfect saviour. He belonged to them, and it was that he loathed as much as the hero worship. He couldn’t say the work was even interesting. Right now, he was sat flicking through bits of paperwork, and trying to take notes on some piece of legislation involving the illegal use of certain ingredients in potions. He did not care one jot about it and was probably going to fail the test he was meant to have next week on the subject. Not that it mattered. No one cared about his marks. All that mattered was that he was Harry Potter. His mind kept on drifting to the meeting with Kingsley he had soon, about Draco’s progress, which wasn’t exactly helping his sour mood. He decided to give up with the revising. He headed down to the lobby and grabbed one of the appalling cups of muddy, over-brewed, and slightly burnt tasting coffee from the staff canteen. He took a sip. It really was awful. The best thing that could be said about it was that it was hot. Still he drank it as he made his way back to the lift, and up to Kingsley’s office. He threw what was left in a bin, just before he knocked.

“Come in.” Kingsley’s voice shouted from through the door, and Harry entered. The office was tidy, with books and files neatly lined up on the shelves. Kingsley’s Order of Merlin was displayed on one wall. Harry didn’t even know where he’d put his own Order of Merlin. He guessed it was wherever he dumped it in Grimmauld. Or maybe Kreacher had tidied it away somewhere. He’d hated every second of the ceremony where he, and others who’d played significant parts in their side of the war, were given the awards. Afterwards he’d gone home by himself and gotten spectacularly drunk. That had been not long after he first started going round to the Manor. When it was still just official business, and he hadn’t seen how deep the damage Draco had suffered as a result of the war was. If he had been asked to accept the award today, he would have refused. It wasn’t right that he got praised for being manipulated by the winning side, whilst others were demonised for being manipulated and forced into working for the side that lost. History is written by the victors, he thought bitterly. “Harry, good to see you.” Kingsley said, distracting Harry from his dark thoughts.

“It’s good to see you too, Kingsley.” Harry tried to force a polite smile onto his face as he greeted the Minister for Magic.

“I’ve been getting your weekly reports on the Malfoy boy. You seem to be making nice progress.”

Harry had to fight to stop himself from snorting in amusement. His and Draco’s latest progress had involved a paint fight, followed by a mutual hand-job, in one of the Manor’s breakfast rooms. Decorating the Manor had been going rather well, all things considered. The House Elves were doing a fantastic job, only occasionally hindered by the two wizards attempts at helping. Harry’s own decorators had finished over a week ago, but then they’d been professionals trying to sort a much smaller house. None of this went in his report to Kingsley, however.

“We’ve started going to cafés on our last couple of trips out. I’m thinking about the cinema next. Trying to get him used to muggle technology and culture.” Harry hated having to talk about Draco in this setting, keeping his tone over formal and playing down the amount of time they spent together. As if Draco hadn’t been completely obsessed with all things’ muggle since the first outing to the DIY store. As if their trips to cafés and restaurants were a chore, rather than something they both enjoyed. 

“Well it all seems very positive. But remember, if there is any sign of trouble, any at all, don’t hesitate to let me know. Thank you for your good work.” Harry had to fight to keep the smile plastered on his face when he heard this. He knew exactly what Kingsley was asking of him and he hated it. That it was Kingsley dealing with Malfoy, rather than Robards, the head of the DMLE, told Harry everything he needed to know about the Ministry’s attitude towards Draco. Malfoy was nothing more than a pawn for the new minister to use for political gain.

“Of course Kingsley.” Harry said, and hoped that the older man didn’t notice that he’d spoken through gritted teeth.

Harry got up and left. He still had another half an hour left before he was meant to leave for the day, but he couldn’t be arsed to go back to his desk. He was too angry at the way Kingsley spoke about Draco. He knew people forgiving Draco would be hard, but nobody but him seemed bothered to even try to see the person Draco really was. All anyone seemed to see was the mark on Draco’s arm. The mark he regretted. The mark he was forced to take when a mad man took over his house and threatened his family. He knew it was probably hypocritical of him to think this way. He’d only bothered to get to know Draco after he’d been all but forced to by the Ministry. He had been so naive about what they were doing then, but it had only taken a couple of these meeting for him to catch on. He had really thought that they wanted to help Draco. That when he’d been given only a probationary sentence in his trial, they meant it. He knew now, they’d been forced into it by Harry’s testimony, and since then they had been trying to use him to put Draco where they all thought he belonged. Draco’s self-imposed isolation didn’t exactly help matters either. He refused to go out anywhere where they might be seen by others from the magical community. They were never going to accept him if he just hid his whole life. Harry was convinced that if Draco started going out in the world, and let people see the person he really was, they would eventually be able forgive. The whole stupid situation left Harry frustrated. He didn’t spend most of his childhood fighting against a prejudiced tyrant, just for more prejudice to replace it. He decided just to leave work early. It’s not like anyone would say anything, even if they noticed. 

Harry disapparated straight from the Ministry lobby to the Manor. Walking through the large and decorated gates, and up the long winding driveway, he wondered what mood Draco would be in today. His black spells seemed to be becoming much less frequent. His appetite still wasn’t great, at least when Harry wasn’t there to encourage him to eat. That had been one of the reasons they had started going out for lunch and dinner regularly, although the house elves did seem a bit put out by not providing them with every meal. Getting them involved in the decorating made up for it, they were all delighted by the work, and most of the house elves now had near permanent paint stains over themselves, in a veritable rainbow of colours. The front door of the Manor was wide open when he got to it. Harry walked straight in and looked around, expecting one of the multicoloured elves to appear to tell him where to go and find Draco. Rather than the familiar pop of apparition, he was greeted by Draco himself running up to him and wrapping his arms around him in an embrace. Harry kissed the over excited blonde, picking him up and twirling him around in the entrance.

“That was an unexpected delight. What’s got you in such a good mood?” Harry asked when he eventually put Draco down. Draco smelt of paint and varnish. Harry noticed his hands were stained and there were flecks of colour in his hair.

“Finished the ballroom.” Draco said enthusiastically, like a child bringing home a picture to their parents, delighted with themselves and wanting everyone to see what they achieved. This Draco, the bubbly, happy, enthusiastic Draco, was all it took to shake away the last of the bitter mood, Harry’s day at work and meeting at the Ministry, had left him with.

“You finished it, or the elves finished it whilst you played with the brushes and the sparkly paint.” Harry teased. Draco scowled at him endearingly, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the expression. He leaned in and kissed Draco’s nose. “Come on then, show me your masterpiece.”

Draco took Harry’s hand and started running through the winding corridors, dragging Harry along with him. The decorating of the Manor probably hadn’t been done in the most logical of orders. The first job had been creating a safe route out of the Manor for Draco. Then the elves had worked outwards from the route in branches, a tree of change spreading out from a central trunk. Decorating whatever rooms they came to on the way. Draco would only step into an undecorated area if he were either blindfolded or had Harry’s company. More often than not, both. It meant that the house elves were nearly always the ones that started any new part of the Manor, as Harry’s other commitments and the outings he and Draco now regularly took, kept them both away from the house more and more. Harry didn’t care, the house elves were doing most of the work anyway, Harry only joined in for the joy of seeing Draco play with the paints. Any work Draco actually managed to do usually had to be done over by the elves, late at night, without his knowledge. Mastering a brush and rollers was not within Draco’s skillset. 

“Close your eyes.” Draco instructed when they reached the entrance to the ballroom. The last time Harry had been in the room was during the war. Bellatrix had been standing over Hermione torturing her. Lucius had commanded Draco to identify Harry and turn him over to Voldemort. Dobby had died. He almost resisted but the eagerness and earnest look on Draco’s face persuaded him. If Draco could face this room, or any of the others for that matter, Harry should be able to too. If the Slytherin could face the multiple horrors this house continued to torment him with, Harry could do this for him. He trusted Draco. Harry heard the doors open in front of him and felt Draco take his hands to slowly lead him into the room. “Open them.”

The room was beautiful. It was unrecognisable. Sunlight poured in and reflected off the large mirrors that lined half the wall space. The walls were rich greys and light purples. The floor the honey colour of natural ash.

“It’s perfect.” Harry said and was rewarded with another of Draco’s magnificent smiles.

“Dance with me, Potter.”

“I don’t dance.” Harry remembered his own miserable attempts at dancing at the Yule Ball with Parvati Patil.

“I don’t care. There’s no one to see you treading on my toes. This is a ballroom and I want to dance with you.”

Harry sighed, but acquiesced, and held out his hand for Draco to take. Refusing Draco anything was becoming increasingly difficult. Before he even had time to become nervous and start tripping over his feet, Draco was twirling him round the room. There was no music, but it didn’t matter. The two of them danced round the room like they were the only two people in the world. There could have been crowds around them, a full orchestra, and Harry wouldn’t have noticed. The only person he had eyes for was the beautiful man leading him. They were taking back the Manor. Claiming each room with love and happiness. He pulled Draco into him stopping the dance. They were both slightly out of breath, but their eyes stayed fixed on each other, bright and sparkling with the joy they shared. Their mouths met, and with the competitive edge that had dominated their relationship when they were at school, they were each tugging at clothes and pulling each other to the floor. 

Harry ripped the buttons off Draco’s shirt in his eagerness to touch him. Harry’s own clothes fared little better. His uniform was discarded to one side in a heap after Draco tore it from him. Draco’s mouth was on his chest. He gasped in pleasure and pain as Draco bit hard into his shoulder. Then, with a murmured lubrication spell, Draco’s fingers were pressing into him, finding the spot that caused his brain to white out quickly. Harry was panting. He needed more. He needed Draco inside him. It was fast and rough. A tangle of limbs and tongues and want. 

“I need you Draco. Now. Fuck. Please.” Harry begged. Draco’s fingers were rapidly removed. Harry barely had time to ready himself before Draco had pushed himself inside. Draco’s hand was working in the same rhythm as his thrusts. Everything was happening too quickly, and Harry became lost in the feel of everything. Minutes later Draco collapsed on top of him, both of them coming hard. Sticky white mess was trapped between them.

“That was exactly what I needed” Harry said, his voice rough and breathless, as they lay together naked and sweaty on the floor of the ballroom.

“Of course it was. I always know what’s best for you, Potter.”

“Sure, Malfoy.” Harry rolled his eyes. “This is how it should always be though, coming home to you after a crap day at work.”

“You know you’re not allowed to say that kind thing Potter. I might start to think you actually like me.” Harry knew Draco was trying to hide behind jokes and sarcasm. That Harry talking about what the two of them were doing together made him uncomfortable. “Besides, how could the great Harry Potter be allowed to have a shit day at work. Don’t you have people falling over their feet to worship you?”

“I do like you, you prat. And you know as well as I do how much I hate the sycophantic fawning.”

“Well, don’t you at least get to run around chasing down evil Death Eaters and the like.” Draco was still trying to deflect. It was like he was trying to remind him exactly who he was, trying to make Harry run. He did this every time Harry tried to talk about the future of their relationship. Harry decided to pretend that he didn’t know exactly what Draco was doing and continue the conversation as casually as possible.

“It’s all bloody paperwork and useless training exercises. It’s not like I even want to go chasing down Dark Wizards. I spent half my childhood doing it. Why I thought jumping straight into a career in it was a good idea? Besides, I think I have the only Dark Wizard I ever want to chase down right here.” Harry kissed Draco as he said this and drew him tighter into his arms.

“Do you now? And what exactly are you going to do now you’ve captured him?” Draco joined in with the teasing, his earlier unease vanishing, which had been Harry’s intention.

“I think you know exactly what I want to do with him. I believe you just got a rather enjoyable demonstration.”

“You could show me again.”

“No I bloody well couldn’t. At least not for another half an hour.” Harry was feeling decidedly sore and more than a little bit exhausted after their recent activities. He was also meant to meeting Ron and Hermione for dinner. Ginny was going to be there too, like some ridiculously awkward double date. He decided to forget about that for now, and just focus on the fact that he was here with Draco. 

“Spoilsport.”

“You’re just insatiable. Lets just lie here and talk until it’s time to call the elves for some food.” He could text his friends later and say he got caught up at work. They’d probably be cross with him but frankly, it didn’t seem to matter very much. Being with Draco was what mattered.

Hermione and Ron were upset with him for standing up them, and Ginny, but had bought the excuse that he’d been stuck at work. That he’d only been able to manage a couple of hours at the Manor since that day, made him infinitely glad that he’d decided to blow the rest of his life off for an evening in order to spend more time with Draco. Work was being infuriatingly demanding on his time. He’d also not been able to avoid Sunday at the Weasleys’. If he’d done that, like he wanted to, his friends probably would have become suspicious about his whereabouts. He hadn’t even been able to escape early like he usually did. Instead he’d been dragged out into London for the night, to some hot and crowded wizarding club that Ron wanted to go to. It was pretty much the same crowd that had been to his birthday party. He’d danced with his friends. It wasn’t so bad, and he had ended up actually enjoying himself. There were moments though, like when he saw Ron and Hermione dancing together to a slow song, or Seamus and Dean making out in a corner, that he wished that Draco could have been here too. Maybe he and Draco could make a foray into muggle clubbing soon. Having Draco grind up against him with a t-shirt sticking to his chest sounded like a very good idea. He’d drunk a bit too much and had had a hell of hangover the next morning. That was two days ago, and still his friends and work had continued to demand his time, preventing him escaping to where he really wanted to be. Today, was his official visit to Draco though, which meant he could spend the whole day there on work time. 

He met Draco at the gates of the Manor and apparated the two of them straight to their favourite café in Palmers green. They sat and drank tea enjoying a late breakfast, talking about all the inconsequential things that were going on in their lives. When they’d finished, they headed to the park opposite and spent an enjoyable hour walking around the park and lake, as well as the gardens that once surrounded the now dilapidated house, decimated by fires decades ago. 

“I have an idea for today, Draco.”

“What, Potter?”

“Well this whole thing is meant to be about showing you the wonders of muggles and the like.”

“This drifted way past the official brief months ago. Really, I should report you in for your unethical behaviour. What would the ministry say when they hear what their golden boy is doing?”

“Like you would.” Harry snorted. “And anyway you like it when I show you muggle things. Your whole face lights up, even more than it used to when you received the abundance of sweets from you mother back at school.”

“I like sweets. And trust you to notice. Stalker.” Draco stuck his tongue out at Harry, and he had to fight the urge to giggle. “Go on then, what fabulous new thing are you going to show me today?”

“I think you should get a phone.”

“You mean like that irritating little thing you have that bleeps and interrupts at inconvenient times.” Draco had been very annoyed when his mobile had started ringing a few weeks ago in the middle of them enjoying a picnic out in the Manor gardens. To be fair they’d both been naked at the time and Harry, rather than appreciating the delectable food the elves had provided, had had Draco’s cock in his mouth. Harry had also been more than a little annoyed at the interruption.

“Yup. After today you will be the proud owner of your very own irritating bleeping device.”

“Why in the name of Merlin would I want one?”

“Because it would mean we could message each other. You could entertain me whilst I’m having to languish away at work or with my friends, who seem to demand my attention. We could also use them to arrange to meet outside of the Manor sometimes.”

“Maybe that seems like a good idea. Maybe.” Harry knew that Draco was faking reluctance and couldn’t wait to choose and play with the electronic devices on offer.

“Like you can resist getting your hands on anything muggle related. Just think what your Father would say. Besides, they also have games on them.”

“Fine you win. Let’s go get one of these stupid bleepy things.”

They ended up getting Draco a brand-new Nokia 5110. The rest of the day was spent showing Draco how to use it, as well as casting the various charms that were needed for it to work around magical interference. Showing Draco ‘Snake’ was probably a mistake. When Harry left for the evening Draco had been completely absorbed with the game. He’d practically had to drag him away from the little screen in order to get his goodnight kiss.

The rest of the week Harry had only been able to see Draco a few times, but the phone had proved invaluable. They’d sent a handful of messages back and forth whist Harry was sat bored in his lectures on proper Auror conduct during a raid. Waiting for replies had kept Harry more awake than he usually was during these classes, although it didn’t result in him paying any more attention to the instructor. When he was called up to the front to help with some demonstration, which happened far too often for his liking, he didn’t feel quite so flat and deflated as he usually did. The last message he’d received from Draco, a cutting admonishment about the standard of Auror training and the problem with doe eyed recruits, made him look at the whole farce much less seriously. It was much easier to care significantly less about the fawning of his instructor and the rapt worship of the rest of the class, when he had Draco mocking them at the other end of a phone. 

When he was done for the day, he texted Draco again.

_Favourite Restaurant – an hour?_

The reply came through almost immediately.

_1hr. Srsly. Fine. CU there._

_You’ll look perfect as always. An hour is more than enough_

_Stp distracting me. UR irritating_

_If you say so. x_

Draco using text abbreviations always amused him. The proper pure blood using less than perfect spelling and grammar, in order to stick to the character limit of text messages, was so far from what most people thought of Draco. It was a side that no one but him really got to see. He didn’t think about the fact that he’d kept the name of where they were meeting off his phone. Draco did the same thing. Nor that he hadn’t saved Draco’s number with any kind of contact details. It was an unconscious effort. He knew that what he and Draco were doing would be at best frowned upon, by not only his friends and family, but by the wider wizarding community. It would also get not only him, but Draco into serious trouble with the DMLE. So they kept their messages as untraceable as possible. Each of them bracing for the day when their little bubble of happiness came crashing down around them.

The restaurant they went to was out of the way in the Cotswolds. It was somewhere where they knew no other wizards were likely to go. Draco still wasn’t comfortable around the wizarding community, and the two of them being seen together by another witch or wizard would bring down an inordinate amount of questions that neither of them wanted to answer. Besides, the food here was delicious, which was important, and the staff had gotten to know the couple over the last few weeks they’d been coming. Harry was feeling happily full when they moved from their table to one of the lounging areas to enjoy a digestif. 

“You know, you should try going out to places where other witches and wizards can see you.” Harry said. He knew his statement wouldn’t go down well; it hadn’t the last half a dozen times he’d tried, but he wanted to encourage Draco to engage in the world a little more.

“Potter, I’d end up being cursed by the first person that saw me. They all know I’m a Death Eater. I wouldn’t be allowed in most shops anyway, so there’s no point.”

“You’re not a Death Eater anymore. Even when you were you were a pretty crap example of one.” Draco snorted at this. “That’s besides the point.” Harry continued. “If you don’t try, they won’t ever get to see the real Draco.” 

“They don’t want to see the ‘real’ Draco. They’re quite happy just vilifying the only marked person to escape a sentence in Azkaban.”

“Still...”

“Potter, you’re not going to change my mind. Please move on. Tell me about the Weaslette’s latest attempts at flirting with you instead. That’s at least entertaining.”

Harry sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere and didn’t think he was going to get anywhere anytime soon. Carrying on talking about it would only make Draco angry, or worse, send him into one of his depressive spirals. Draco had been so much better recently. The last thing he wanted was to provoke the black cloud. He decided to move on, and before long he and Draco were in hysterics over Molly’s latest attempts to get him and Ginny back together. A small part of Harry felt guilty about mocking Molly and Ginny, but a much larger part, was just happy to have Draco laughing with him. Eventually they payed their bill and left. Harry kissed Draco at the gates of the Manor. Every time they separated at the end of the night it was becoming harder to leave. He disapparated home, wishing that Draco were with him. 

_____________________

“Harry, stop dawdling.” Hermione insisted as she negotiated through the crowds in Diagon alley. “I need to get to Gringotts and you’re not helping.”

“Well what did you expect dragging me along today. You know how people get when they see us out together.” 

Whenever he, Ron and Hermione were in public together they were bombarded by people thanking them for everything they’d done during the war. The press would also descend down upon them, making things a thousand times worse. Harry just wanted to forget about the whole thing. Ginny was with them too; 7th years had been given the privilege of going home at the weekends. She was walking close to Harry, brushing up against him as they tried to fight their way through the crowds. When they finally got to Gringotts, Harry stood sullenly in the entrance, with cross looking Goblins staring at him. He was strangely comforted by their hostility. Their anger at his successful break in was a nice contrast to the worship the crowds outside were throwing at him. He was almost disappointed when Hermione had taken out the money she needed, and they left to go back out into the crowds of obsequious fans in Diagon alley.

Ginny had grabbed his hand at some point as they were negotiating the crowds to get the Flourish and Blotts. Her hand felt clammy and uncomfortable in his. He wanted to shake it off, but they needed to stick together in order not to become separated amongst the people surrounding them. They eventually got to the door of the shop. It took them at least twice as long as it should have done, and he was sure there would be speculation in the papers tomorrow about him and Ginny getting back together. Complete with photos of the ‘happy couple’ holding hands if he was really lucky. Hermione was about to open the door, when swung out in front of her. Harry had to hold in a gasp when he saw the blonde head exit the shop. He noticed the blonde man look down at where his hands joined with Ginny’s and cringed internally. Draco didn’t look happy about it, and Harry wanted nothing more than to shake Ginny off. Only how suspicious it would look, stopped him.

“What are you doing here, Ferret?” Ron said, spitefully. Out of all of their group, Ron was the most resentful of the Death Eaters in general, and Draco Malfoy, specifically.

Harry looked at Draco, trying to tell him that he was holding Ginny’s hand against his will. Draco just glared at the four of them with disgust.

“I have every right to be here. Now if you could get out of my way, I’ll be leaving now.” It was the old Draco’s voice. The one that existed before he really knew him. The one that was part of the mask and shield that he held around himself.

“Fuck you, Death Eater scum” Ron said, as Draco pushed past them.

The crowds took up the jeering. Harry watched as Draco stormed down the street. He thought he detected a look of pain, under the mask of indifference just as Draco disapparated away.

“Come on, let’s not let that unpleasant piece of crap ruin our day.” Hermione said. It was worse hearing Hermione talk about Draco like this than Ron. Hermione was usually more level-headed. He knew she hated Draco, but he still hadn’t expected her vehemence. He’d been fooling himself about how Draco would be perceived if he tried to reintegrate with his own society.

“Yeah, come on Harry. Don’t let the baby Death Eater get to you. He’s a worthless coward. He should show you more gratitude. If it weren’t for you, he’d be rotting in Azkaban with his Father. Just like he deserves.” Ginny added, unhelpfully. 

Harry had to force himself to let the words wash over him like they meant nothing. To pretend that he hated Draco as much as they did. He wanted to disapparate straight out of there. Straight to the Manor. Straight to Draco. He wanted to tell him how brave he was for coming here. That he was proud of him. Instead he had to put up with an hour of his friends’ derogatory commentary about the Death Eater that escaped Azkaban. When he finally managed to escape them, he felt disgusted at himself. He’d had to say that bumping into Draco had ruined his day in order to be allowed to leave early. It wasn’t even a lie, but that made it worse. Seeing Draco like that had completely wrecked any attempt he might have made to be happy hanging out with his friends. It just wasn’t in the way they all assumed. 

Harry apparated straight to the Manor. He ran up the driveway to the house. He needed to get to Draco. He dreaded finding Draco holed up in the library, unresponsive, but expected that was what he would be faced with. The house elf that greeted him was in a state. A bundle of nerves and anxiety. Something was seriously wrong. 

“Master Draco is in the blue room, Mister Potter. Please be careful. He is…”

“Don’t worry about it.” He dismissed the elf before he could finish and ran through the corridors to the blue room. It was the latest room to have undergone a makeover. As he approached, he heard crashes and splintering wood. He could hear Draco shouting, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. He opened the door cautiously.

The room was a disaster. All of the carefully laid out furniture was in pieces. Draco was in the centre lashing his wand around violently, destroying everything around him. Wallpaper lay in tatters and the light fittings they’d so carefully picked out were a ruined, blackened twist of metal on the floor.

“Fucking… Shit faced… Worthless…Crap….”

“Draco…” Harry said softly. Draco didn’t seem to hear him.

“Death Eater Scum… Failure…”

“Draco!” Harry said with more force. 

The blonde man looked up at him. The metallic taste of out of control magic hung in the air, along with the smell of burnt ozone.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Potter?” The tone of voice was familiar to Harry. It was the old voice again, the same on he’d heard from Draco earlier, and hundreds of times at school before that. Hatred seeped into every word. Harry pushed the memories it triggered away. Draco was upset. He had every right to be upset. 

“Please Draco. Please don’t be angry at me.” He was almost in tears as he said this. He knew he’d hurt Draco. That he’d failed when he didn’t stand up to his friends and the crowds of people and defend him. Harry was a useless coward, and he’d proved it today.

“Why shouldn’t I be angry with you?” Draco’s shoulders slumped and his tone didn’t match his words. It didn’t hold any of the fury that had been directed at the furniture minutes ago. It was sad. It spoke of pain and despair.

“I don’t know. I just don’t think I could stand it if you were mad at me.”

“Well don’t worry about that, Potter. It’s myself I’m mad at. Although don’t think it didn’t hurt seeing you and little miss Weasley all coupled up.” Again, there was no anger, just resignation and an aura of grief.

Harry winced. Draco seeing him and Ginny touching like that. In public. Like they never could. Of course it hurt him.

“I wanted it to be you.” He tried to insist, knowing it was futile.

“And you did a great job of showing that.”

“I should have stood up to them.”

“Yes. But you didn’t”

“I know.” Harry felt completely disheartened. He didn’t know what he could say to make this better. This was the entire problem with their relationship. It worked perfectly within their little bubble, but any hint of the outside world and it cracked. 

“I don’t see what the point in any of this is.” Draco sounded defeated. Harry could see and feel the blackness descending over Draco.

“Draco, don’t say that.”

“Why shouldn’t I? No one is ever going to see me as anything other than the stupid, spoiled, bully, who picked the wrong side.”

Harry moved to the middle of the room where Draco was stood and put his arms around him. He felt Draco tense and for a second Harry was scared that he would be pushed away. Then Draco relaxed and his arms wrapped around Harry’s waist. 

“It’s their problem if they can’t see who you really are. They’re the ones missing out.”

“Only you think that, Potter.”

“I wish there was more I could do to help.”

“You being here helps, for now.” 

They stood there, embracing tightly, in the middle of the destroyed room. Each lost in their own thoughts.

Draco broke the silence. “I’ve really made a mess of this room, haven’t I. I should probably go apologise to the elves.”

“They won’t care about the room. They just want to know that you’re okay. They care about you.” Then steeling himself Harry continued. “I care about you too.” It wasn’t the time to open up about his feelings, but he couldn’t help but feel that Draco was drifting away from him. He had to do something to try and hold him closer.

“You can’t say things like that, Potter.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not.”

“I can’t help that I’ve fallen in love with you, Draco.”

It was the first time Harry had admitted it out loud. Draco reached up and touched Harry’s face and then kissed him sweetly, tenderly. They’re eyes were locked together.

“I can’t say it back.” Draco whispered.

“I know.”

“It doesn’t mean ... that I…”

“I know.” Harry repeated, not needing Draco to finish his sentence. He knew how Draco felt and that it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to make it worse by forcing him to say it out loud. It was enough that _he_ had. It wasn’t fair on either of them having to keep this secret, but it was worse for Draco. He didn’t have anyone else in his life apart from Harry and whole bunch of elves. He spent his days rattling around in a too big house. Then, when he tried to do something to reclaim some of the life he’d lost, he ended up with hateful slurs thrown at him while Harry watched on, not doing a thing to help.

“I’m tired. I’m tired of having feelings that I can’t say out loud. I’m tired of people hating me.” There was a long pause before Draco finished. “I’m just tired.”

“I’m tired too.”

Harry had carried Draco to the little bedroom in the library. They curled up on the small bed together, Harry stroking Draco’s back and hair until he fell asleep. Harry eventually fell asleep too. He woke a few hours later and Draco was gone. Harry knew he’d be somewhere in the house, but he didn’t look for him. He could tell Draco wanted to be alone. Instead he made his way out of the Manor and apparated home. It was a few days before Draco contacted him again. He hadn’t dared be the one to contact first, Draco needed to sort his head out before they spoke. He was sat in Andi’s back garden playing with Teddy, whilst she was out doing some shopping, when his phone buzzed. 

_Need to talk. An hour. Café._

Harry knew that whatever Draco wanted to say to him wouldn’t be good. Needing to talk was not an auspicious reason for a meeting. Andi would be back in about 45 minutes. He tried to distract himself from his imminent rendezvous with Draco by making Teddy laugh, but the little boy wasn’t cooperating. He was becoming fractious and tired, so Harry gave up and just held the baby against his shoulder until he fell asleep. He knew he should put Teddy in his cot but hugging the small boy close was soothing. When Andi came back, he reluctantly handed Teddy over and headed straight to the café, him and Draco had become regulars at. He could see Draco sat at their usual table through the window, a pot of tea in front of him and a look of desperate sadness in his expression. Harry was in no doubt that this meeting would not have a happy outcome. When he reached Draco, he leant down to kiss him, like he always did. Draco turned his face so that instead of kissing his mouth, Harry was left kissing his cheek. When Harry sat down, the waitress brought over his usual pot of tea. She looked anxiously between the two men. Even she knew there was something wrong. Harry tried to reach across the table and take Draco’s hand, but it was pulled away from him and Draco was refusing to make eye contact.

“Draco…” Harry didn’t know what to say. He knew what was coming. “Please don’t do this.”

“My mother’s coming home.”

This wasn’t what Harry had expected.

“Okay. When?”

“Next week. She’s decided 6 months is enough time away.”

“If that’s what you wanted to tell me about, why are you behaving so distant?”

“Because it has to be over between us.” Draco said this dispassionately, still not looking at Harry.

“But…”

“No Potter. Don’t say anything. This was fun while it lasted, but we always had an expiration date. This thing was never going to work. The other day just proved that. You can move on with your life, marry the Weasley girl or whatever. I’ll marry some pure-blood willing to put up with my reputation because of my gold. We had, what? Three, four months of fun?”

“Is that how you really see it? Because if it is, I don’t think I ever knew you.” Harry was raising his voice, tears stinging his eyes as they threatened to escape his control. He was angry that Draco was dismissing everything they had. 

“Harry, please don’t be like this.” Draco looked close to tears too, as he finally met Harry’s eyes. “You know why this is how it has to be.” The desperation almost broke Harry but it was the injustice of what was happening that fuelled his next words.

“Because we were both idiots on opposite sides of a war. That we were used to fight other people battles. All because the grownups around us didn’t protect us. Why the fuck should we care about any of that now?” Harry was fuming. At Draco for giving up on them, and at the whole world for forcing them into this situation.

“I’m going to go.” Draco said, despair still radiating off him as he stood to leave. Harry reached for his hand again. Trying to get him to stay. Trying to undo the last 10 minutes. For a second, he thought Draco was going to stop. Their hands stayed joined for several agonising moments before Draco shook him off and ran out of the café.

Harry slumped onto the table, his head in his hands. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. He didn’t know how long had passed before the waitress disturbed him, letting him know the café was closing for the evening. He payed his and Draco’s bills and then left. He was due at the Weasley’s for some kind of party soon. He couldn’t even remember what it was for exactly, just that he’d promised to be there. He would have blown it off but sitting by himself in his lonely house was even less appealing. At least there he could drink in company. Could pretend that his whole world hadn’t just collapsed.

Harry woke up the next morning feeling sick and with a splitting headache. He remembered arriving at the Burrow, then things got a bit blurry. He had no idea how much he’d had to drink, but it was clearly too much. He looked around the room. It was one of the bedrooms at the Burrow. He had obviously been too drunk to send home by himself. He shuffled in the bed and realised he was naked. He also wasn’t alone. Curled up facing the wall was Ginny. Her long red hair trailing over bare shoulders and the duvet pulled up to her chest. What the hell had he done last night? He got up slowly and carefully, partly to avoid jostling his aching head, but mostly so he didn’t disturb Ginny. He did not fancy an awkward morning after talk. He shrugged into his clothes and quietly exited the room. He wanted to head home for a shower, a hangover potion and a couple more hours sleep. The household all appeared to still be asleep and he was grateful not to meet anyone. When he reached the kitchen his luck ran out. Ron was sat at the table with a large cup of coffee.

“Urr…Morning.” Harry said.

“Morning, mate. You look like shit.”

“Don’t feel great either.”

“So, you sneaking out on my little sister. Do I need to sit down and give you the big brother talk?” ‘Shit’, Harry thought to himself.

“Urrr….”

“Don’t worry. I’m just glad to see you finally got your act together.”

Harry was lost for words. Ron was clearly working under a different assumption to what he was feeling, and that didn’t bode well for Harry coming out of this unscathed.

“Does everyone know?”

“Well you were all over her last night. I don’t think mum knows you stayed in Gin’s room though, so you don’t need to worry. We’re all just glad you and Ginny are finally back together. Anyone can see the two of you are meant to be. Just don’t let mum catch you in her room all night. She might be over the moon at the two of you, but I don’t think that quite extends to her accepting pre-marital activities.”

This was really not good. How the hell was he supposed to tell Ginny and her family that he’d gotten drunk because he was upset and had made a huge mistake? “Uh, yeah. Right. I should go. I need a shower and a hangover potion. I’ll see you next week at the pub I guess.”

“Yeah. I’ll tell Ginny to pop over to yours later so you can talk properly.”

“No… not today. I don’t think this hangover is going anywhere anytime soon. I’ll call her.”

“Alright mate. Go get some sleep.”

“Fuck”, Harry said out loud to no one, as he stepped through the fireplace into his own house. He was furious with himself for letting alcohol get the better of him. “Fucking, buggery, shit.” What the hell was he supposed to do now?


	4. Walking hand in hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks apart from Draco and Harry thinks he's going to fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief mentions of homophobia - no homophobic language used

It took two weeks for Harry to crack. Two weeks of faking happiness at having Ginny pawing at him, whenever the opportunity presented itself. Two weeks of having the Weasley family looking at him fondly and saying how happy they are that he and Ginny were finally back together. Two weeks of missing Draco whilst pretending everything was fine to his friends and family. He’d just filed his second faked report with the Ministry, telling them all about what a wonderful job Malfoy did at behaving politely to muggles at a restaurant. He’d handed it in and knew he couldn’t do it anymore. Sure he could carry on making up crap about Malfoy in the muggle world, he had more than enough memories of the two of them out together to do that easily, but that wasn’t it. He needed to see Draco again. Dealing with everything else in his unsatisfactory life, would be easier again if he could just have the blonde prat to laugh about it with. He sent a text to the familiar number.

_I’ll be at the café. Please come. I can’t stand this._

He apparated out of the Ministry lobby, not caring that it was only lunch time. It wasn’t like he was the only one who ever took liberties with their lunch breaks. If anyone said something about his unauthorised absence, he would just have to put up with Robards shouting at him. It’s not like they’d ever do anything to actually discipline him for skipping work. He was still the Golden Boy. Too special to have to abide by all of the usual regulations. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The table he and Draco had sat at last time, in the window, was free. Harry sat down and flicked through the menu of different types of tea before settling on one. The waitress who came over was the same one from that day too.

“Your friend not here today?”

“I hope he’s coming”

“Made up from that fight last time?”

“Not yet. That’s what today’s for. If he comes.”

“He’ll come. I’ve seen how you two are with each other. I’ll bring you over one of our scones with your tea.”

The tea was delicious, as always. Harry had chosen his usual malty Assam brew from the wide selection of teas. He sat and drank slowly, savouring the taste. The warm cheddar scone with butter sat in front of him. He was starting to lose hope that Malfoy would come as he stared at the scone, watching as the butter slowly melted. These were always Draco’s favourites. He didn’t want to eat it until Draco was here and they could share, like they used to. It was stupid and sentimental, but he knew that if he tried to take a bite of the delicious treat before then, it would turn to ash in his mouth. So he waited and drank his tea. It had to have been 30 minutes since he sent the text. In his head he had given Draco an hour to come, but now he was sitting here, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could actually take the waiting. Every time the bell at the door sounded, announcing a new customer, his heart started racing and he all but jumped up. Every time he was disappointed when he saw it was some gossiping mothers with babies in prams, or a happy looking couple, instead of the man he was waiting for. He heard the bell again. This time he tried to fight the urge to look up, to avoid the disheartening fact that Draco wasn’t here. He couldn’t manage the hope any longer. He threw some cash on the table, leaving the scone abandoned, and walked outside. He felt beyond stupid at thinking that Draco would just forget that last fight. That he’d go back on his resolution to stay away from Harry. Harry knew in his heart that he wasn’t worth all of the trouble that them being together brought. Draco was better away from him.

“Hey.” The familiar posh accent spoke, startling him. Harry looked up and saw Draco leaning against the wall between the tea shop and the café next door. The blonde man had a half-smoked cigarette in his hand and looked as on edge as Harry felt.

“Hey.” Harry’s voice came out strained. He didn’t know what else to say. Rather than standing there, blocking the entrance, he started walking round the corner and hoped Draco would follow him. A few steps later the other man was by his side. They walked up the hill towards their favourite park in this area of London. It took them half an hour to reach the park, neither of them saying a word as the entire time. When they got there, they sat on one of the benches near the lake and looked up at the Manor house. He watched as Draco got another cigarette out of the packet.

“Can I have one too?” Harry asked, breaking the silence. He didn’t smoke. He didn’t even realise Draco did. Today was the kind of day where a cigarette felt like a good idea though. Draco passed a slim long cigarette over. It looked expensive. Different from the cigarettes he used to see Dudley and his friends smoking when they were hanging out in the park in Little Whinging; bragging and waiting for someone weaker than them to bully. The lighter Draco handed him was a cheap plastic one. The kind you could buy from any supermarket. He’d expected Draco to have some fancy silver thing with engravings on it. Harry lit up and took a drag. It burned as it hit his lungs and he coughed.

“You haven’t smoked before?” Draco enquired, as if it weren’t obvious that Harry was a novice at this.

“Is it that easy to tell?”

“Pretty much.”

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

“A little at school. Now it’s only when I’m feeling out of sorts and anxious. It’s a bit difficult to keep up the habit when you either can’t or refuse to leave the house.” Draco said, self-deprecatingly. “I got to the tea shop a while ago. I just couldn’t bring myself to go in, so I went and bought these instead. Then stood outside trying to work up the courage.”

“I missed you.” Harry confessed. Draco reached over and held his hand, not saying anything. Harry wanted to ask Draco whether he missed him too. Whether he regretted sending him away. But he didn’t. He just sat with his fingers interlinked with the slim, pale, delicate ones and waited. He wanted to say more, he just didn’t know what. He didn’t know where to start with this conversation. Draco broke the increasingly uncomfortable silence.

“Do you know why I like this place, Potter?”

“No.” Harry knew Draco liked this park. It was one of the reasons he’d walked here, rather than just going to the park opposite the tea shop. It might have been further away, but it had never failed to make Draco smile in the past. Watching the water birds on the man-made lake and the children running around the playground in the summer sun. It wasn’t warm today and there weren’t many people here, but this was still a place where they’d been a peace together.

“It makes me think of what my Manor could be like. Children playing. Families enjoying days out. Okay there would be peafowl instead of swans, but it would be nice. Better that having one person rattling around. Did you know the Manor house here is a hospital?”

Harry was curious. He’d seen the large house overlooking the park but hadn’t thought much about it. He waited for Draco to continue.

“After the family that owned it stopped living here, it was used as military hospital during the first world war. The muggle one, not our one. Then it was used a convalescent home before becoming an NHS hospital. It’s a private psychiatric hospital now. Not so different from my home really. Except my home only has one person struggling with life in it. Seems a waste.”

“Have you been struggling?” Harry squeezed Draco’s hand and watched as the blonde man took a long drag of his cigarette. Harry tried another inhale on his own. It was easier this time and he felt a rush of something hit his brain, it made him feel a little dizzy, but in a pleasant way.

“Mother coming home hasn’t been great. Neither of us know how to behave around each other. She keeps complaining about the decorating and finding elves covered in paint.”

“The elves love being covered in paint.” Harry was sure that they did it on purpose most of the time. Brightening the dark empty places with their colourful presence.

“I know. Seeing them in all of the brightly coloured glory has been the only thing keeping me going over the last two weeks. I don’t know what I’ll do when they’ve finished the place.”

“Start over from the beginning. If you need to have the house constantly being redecorated, then that’s what you should do. They won’t complain. They’d do anything to make you happy.” Harry would too, but he didn’t say it.

“I think I should just leave the place. But there’s no where I can go. It was easier when you were there too.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He didn’t just say this for Draco but for himself. “I can’t do another two weeks like this again.” Draco rested his head on Harry’s shoulder and the two of them sat there for several long minutes, finishing smoking the cigarettes. Taking comfort in each other’s presence. He wished it could be like this forever, but Harry knew he had to confess what had happened with him and Ginny. The likelihood of it destroying the feeling of contentment he now had was high, and after how wretched he’d been feeling since Draco walked away from him, he wasn’t ready to be rejected again. Still it had to be done. He lied to everyone else around him. He wasn’t going to lie to Draco. “Walk with me?” Harry thought it would be easier to do this if they were moving. If he didn’t have to look at the other man as he admitted to his shameful behaviour. He got to his feet and helped Draco stand. They began a meandering path around the lake.

“I did something dreadful after you left, and I don’t know how to undo it?” Harry started, taking the conversation down the path it had to go, but that he wished he could avoid.

“Is it going to end up with me being thrown in Azkaban?”

“No. I filed the reports. I wouldn’t do that to you.” He wouldn’t. Even if Draco decided he could never see him again he would continue to file the reports. 

“Okay. What did you do that’s so dreadful then?”

Harry took a deep breath. “That day you left. There was a party at the Weasleys. I was upset and I drank. A lot. I don’t really remember much of what happened. I do know that I woke up in Ginny’s bed in the morning though.”

Draco stopped walking. Harry noticed and stopped too, turning around so they were facing each other.

“Say something Draco. Please. It was a fucked-up mistake and it never should have happened.”

“You’re right about that. The girl Weasley slept with you when you were too drunk to even know what you were doing. You’re right it should never have happened.” There was venom in Draco’s voice. “What did the rest of the Weasleys say? I’m assuming they know it happened.”

“They think we’re back together.”

“Typical.” Draco still sounded livid.

“You know I don’t want her.” Harry said and reached his hand to touch Draco’s face. He didn’t want Draco to be mad at him. He needed him to forgive him for his appalling cock-up. “You know I only want you.”

“I should be furious at you.”

“You should be.” Harry stepped closer and wrapped his arm around Draco’s waist, pulling the man into him.

“I’m not though.” That was a surprise to Harry. “At the world maybe. At the stupid fucking mistakes I made when I was younger. At the Weasleys. Definitely at the Weaslette. But not at you.”

Harry leant in and pressed his lips to Draco’s. Pouring all of his regret from the last two weeks into the kiss. Revelling at the feel of the beautiful man touching him. A catcall from the other side of the lake brought him back to his senses and he pulled back. Open displays of affection between two men weren’t always appreciated. This wasn’t a day when he felt up to dealing with other people’s bigotry. He entangled his hand with Draco’s and started walking again, continuing their stroll around the park.

“What do we do now?” Harry asked.

“I’m not sure. It’s not like we can be together openly.”

That was the crux of the issue. If anyone found out about his relationship with Draco, they would be vilified. He’d be up before a misconduct committee and Draco would probably end up in prison. His family would hate him. He’d lose everything. He’d lose Draco. He sighed. He had no bloody clue what to do next.

Draco spoke again. “I don’t think you should break up with her.” It wasn’t what Harry expected to hear. “Don’t misunderstand me. I do not want you to be with her. If I could have my way, she’d be out of your life completely. And I seriously do not want to even think about you and her having sex. If you break up with her, however, it will raise suspicions. Especially with _your_ Weasleys.” Harry could hear the contempt and jealousy in Draco as he said ‘your Weasleys’ but he didn’t blame him. If Draco had slept with someone else, he’d be exactly the same.

“It’s not really fair on Ginny to keep things going like this though. I don’t want to be with her.”

“I don’t care whether it’s fair on that bitch. If you’d slept with her when she was too drunk to consent, then I can’t imagine her family would be happily congratulating you on your relationship. It’s their own fucking fault they can’t see that you don’t want her. If you’d just told them straight away that it was a mistake then that would be different, but they’ve had two weeks of thinking everything is going great between you. Maybe in a couple of months they’ll see the relationship is a disaster and you can break up with her. For now though, you should carry on pretending.”

Harry hadn’t thought about it like that. Hadn’t thought about what it meant that he’d done something with Ginny that he couldn’t remember. He ignored the uncomfortable feeling it left him with and instead focused on the more important issue of him and Draco. “But what about us?”

“This was always going to stay our dirty little secret. Nothing changes that. It’ll get your family off your back if they think they’re getting what they want.”

Harry didn’t really like it, and he especially didn’t like how cynical Draco’s attitude was, but he had to admit the other man had a point. If he pretended to be with Ginny, they would all be less likely suspect he was seeing Draco behind all of their backs. It wasn’t like they weren’t already sneaking around. That he wasn’t already lying to everyone. Besides, Ginny had spent months pawing at him when they weren’t together. What would really change? He could live with lying. He’d been doing it increasingly since the war ended. And this would protect Draco. Protecting Draco had become the most important thing in his life.

“I think I can manage that.” They’d reached the gates of the park. Harry knew he should probably head back to work. He’d been gone more than two hours now. “I need to head back to the Ministry.”

“I should probably head back to Mother too.”

“Can I come and see you later?”

“I don’t know whether I’ll be able to get away again today.”

“Please Draco. We can make it an official meeting if needs be. I can come to the Manor and explain to your mother about the probation agreement. I’ll plan something for after for just the two of us too.”

“Fine, Potter. Come at six and we’ll have tea with Mother.”

“I’ll see you there.”

They kissed goodbye briefly, before walking in opposite directions to find secluded spots to disapparate from.

___________________

“Mother.” Draco said as he entered the yellow morning room, where she was sat reading.

“Yes dear?”

“I’m expecting a visitor this evening. They want to meet you.”

“Oh? I thought I’d met all of your friends, and anyway, aren’t they all out of the country?”

“They are. This isn’t a friend.” It was only a half lie, Draco thought to himself. “It’s part of my probation.”

“Someone checking up on you?” His mother said this blandly. As if it wasn’t a big deal that he was stuck on probation due to their family’s errors during the war.

“Sort of. The Ministry decided I should have someone show me the error of my ways and introduce me to the muggle world.” What a stupid fucking joke that was. As if it wasn’t obvious they were just trying to catch Draco out.

“I’ll have the house elves make us up something to eat. What time are they coming?”

“They should be here about six. I’ll be in my potions lab if you need me for anything before then.”

“You really shouldn’t shut yourself down there for hours on end. It’s not good for you, dear. You should see some of your friends. I’ve been here for more than a week now and I don’t think I’ve seen you receive so much as an owl from any of them, let alone have one of them visit.”

His mother didn’t know the half of it. What would she have thought had she not left for those first six months and had to see him locked away in one room, unable to leave for weeks on end? Without Potter here for these last two weeks he’d almost found himself drifting back into the habit of shutting himself off again. It was why he’d gone to meet Harry today when he messaged. Why he’d instantly forgiven Harry for what happened with the Weaselette and suggested using her to benefit the two of them. Draco knew he’d reached his breaking point. He loved his mother, but it was an effort to be around her. He knew his old friends wouldn’t want anything to do with him either. Even if they did, he very much doubted any of them would be willing to visit England just for the pleasure of his company. The only person he could be around and be comfortable with, it seemed, was Harry, however ill-advised it was. Draco knew he was being stupid. That before long Harry would see the error of his ways. There was no future with a Death Eater. For now, however, he couldn’t break away from the only person who was keeping him relatively sane. The only person he felt human around. The person he’d rapidly, and disastrously, fallen in love with.

“My old friends are all very busy and they don’t find England to be very welcoming. You know this. It’s why you left.”

“Well I’m back now and I don’t want my son shutting himself away. I don’t like seeing you unhappy, Draco.” This was veering uncomfortably close to talking about actual feelings. That was not something he did. Especially not with his mother.

“I’m not unhappy.” His mother sighed and Draco knew she saw straight through the lie. “Really mother, I’m not unhappy. And I don’t spend all my time shut away. I went out today.”

“I’m not going to push you, dear. Just… try not to shut me out completely. I know I haven’t been the best parent to you in the last few years. But it doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It doesn’t mean that I’m not concerned for your well-being.”

“I know, Mother. I love you too.”

______________________

“Mister Potter. We is having tea ready for you in the conservatory.”

“Thank you. How’s the painting going?”

“Very well sir. We have started on the upstairs rooms. The Master is letting us choose whatever colours we like for the rooms.” Harry had to wonder at what colours the house elves were choosing. This elf seemed to have managed to dip one ear in silver paint and the other in a lemon yellow. There were also splashes of various shades of pink and green clashing on his pillowcase, and his fingers appeared to be a garish shade of orange.

“Maybe you can show me later.”

“They is not finished yet. We cannot be showing you unfinished rooms Mister Potter. It would not be being right.”

“Well when they are finished, I expect a grand tour.” The elves had all become so much more confident and carefree over the last few months, since Draco and Harry had recruited them in cleansing the Manor. They had their own trauma to deal with too, and like for Draco, bright colours and making rooms unrecognisable seemed to be helping. Harry also expected Draco’s improved mood was also playing a significant role in the elves’ wellbeing.

“Of course Mister Potter.” The house elf replied excitedly. “But you should be going to the conservatory now. The Master and Mistress are waiting for you.”

The meeting with Narcissa went better than Harry expected. When he’d walked into the room, she’d looked shocked, but quickly schooled her expression, although not without a telling look towards Draco. He’d obviously not told his mother who exactly was coming. Once the initial awkwardness had passed, they’d all sat and eaten the light meal the elves had brought and made small talk about the various places Harry and Draco had been, as part of the muggle integration programme. Harry had excused himself and Draco not long before 7pm, saying that they had an outing planned for this evening. Narcissa had kissed Draco goodbye, and then surprised Harry by kissing each of his cheeks as well, telling him that he was welcome here whenever he wished. Leaving the Manor, the two of them had made several apparition jumps around the country, before reaching the cinema they usually went to. It was in one of their favourite towns in the Cotswolds. The building was art deco, with a sculpted façade of dancing silver naked ladies above the entrance. When Draco had first seen the place, he’d been fascinated by it. He wanted to bring the elves there so they could see and create something similar in the Manor. Harry had managed to persuade him not to, but only on the promise that they bring a camera and take photos for them soon. He wanted his very own Odeon room at the Manor. They didn’t have a camera with them today though, they were mostly just here to be together. They ended up watching a very unrealistic film about two witches and a family curse. They shared a large pick and mix, and Draco had amused Harry the whole way through with his comments, making him glad the theatre was mostly empty, and they didn’t have angry patrons trying to enjoy the film shushing them. They walked out into the dark street once the film was finished. Harry knew that they should go home, but he wasn’t ready for the day to be over. He needed more time with Draco.

“Walk with me for a bit?”

“It’s late. Mother will be expecting me back.”

“It’s not even 10pm. You’re 18, not 12, and have been living by yourself for the last 6 months whilst she was out of the country. Your mother can manage without you. Please walk with me. I don’t want to let you go just yet.”

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes but took Harry’s hand.

“As you wish, Potter.”

They walked towards the town’s high street. All the shops were closed but there were still people milling about. Mostly groups of young people enjoying a night out. Girls teetering clompy platform heels and in too short dresses; bare legs mottled with the October cold. Guys were loudly and obnoxiously shouting lewd comments. There were a few homophobic slurs shouted at the two of them. They ignored them, carrying on up the promenade, to a bar they liked to frequent in this town. It wasn’t that what the muggles were shouting wasn’t hateful and didn’t affect Harry, it was just he knew that it was an upgrade from what they’d get if a wizard saw the two of them together. This was just what any same-sex couple would get for walking hand in hand down the street with drunken idiots around. The bar was on the ground floor of a small hotel. It was relatively empty and most of the people in there were a fair amount older than the two of them. It was one of the reasons they both liked this place. The drinks may be more expensive than in the pubs most people their age seemed to frequent, although the prices in clubs were probably similar, but they didn’t have to put up with anyone trying to bother them, at least not verbally. They got the occasional disapproving look from the other patrons, but no overt discrimination. And the bar staff seemed to like them. Draco’s expensive drinking habits probably helped there. Harry went and ordered a couple of drinks for them whilst Draco found them a table in the corner. 

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I got you a glass of Rosé.” Harry said, sitting on the free armchair and placing both the glass of wine and his pint on the table.

“As long as it’s not house, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“As if I’d ever get you house.” Harry laughed. Both of them had easily slipped back into their old routines and banter, despite everything that had happened. 

“I don’t know. I’m not sure you’d know a good wine if it hit you in the face with a sommelier screaming the details of its bouquet at you.”

“Probably not.” Harry snorted at how ridiculously upper-class Draco sounded in that moment. “But I asked the bartender for something expensive and pretentious.”

Draco took a sip. “It’s passable. I guess.”

“You’re such a git sometimes.” Harry replied, shaking his head but with warmth in his voice. This was how things were meant to be between the two of them. “So what have I missed in the last couple of weeks. Has your mother been driving you insane?”

They caught up on the inconsequential events that had happened since they’d last seen each other. All of the minor irritations at Harry’s work and Narcissa’s frustrations at the house elves and Draco’s encouraging of them. Harry was surprised at how quickly time had passed when the bell came for last orders. He still wasn’t ready to let Draco go.

“Stay with me tonight.” Harry blurted out. They’d never spent the night together before.

“Potter” Draco sighed. “You know we shouldn’t.”

“I know.”

“We’ll get caught.”

“We won’t.”

“It’s a huge risk.”

“More than us being together.” Harry could tell from Draco’s expressions that he was close to agreeing. “It was hard enough to leave you at the end of the night before. I’ve had two weeks without you. I just need you with me. To feel that you’re really here and aren’t just going to disappear on me. That this isn’t just some dream and I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone.”

“Potter…”

“Please Draco.” Draco gave Harry a look and he knew he’d won. Draco would stay with him.

“We can’t stay at the Manor with mother there, and we can’t go to yours.”

“If they have a free room here?”

“Why do I let myself get dragged into these things?”

Harry grinned. “I’ll go ask for a room.”

They had spent the night relearning each other’s bodies before falling asleep wrapped around each other, naked under the sheets. Harry had woken with the light coming in the room. The shower was running, and Draco wasn’t next to him. He rubbed his eyes and fumbled for his glasses, then hauled himself out of bed and into the bathroom. His bladder wasn’t going to let him go back to sleep.

“Could you have not waited till I was done to do that?” Draco said from behind the shower curtain.

“Not really.” Harry replied as he finished emptying his bladder and flushed the toilet before washing his hands.

“Ahh… Fuck Potter. You could have at least waited to flush.”

“Sorry. Didn’t think about it. Too hot or cold?” Harry felt a little guilty, but it wasn’t like he had to think about these things living by himself. He’d never been with someone before where he’d been comfortable enough to end up in a situation where water pressure changes from flushing the loo was a problem. He found that he liked it.

“Both in turn you pillock.” Draco chastised.

Harry pulled back the curtain. Draco was naked with soap still in hair. It was a beautiful sight. Long slender limbs with water trailing down them. Harry reached in and took Draco’s wet cock in his hand.

“What are you doing Potter?”

“Apologising.”

Malfoy groaned as Harry’s hand stroked and teased his rapidly hardening member.

“If you’re going to apologise, you better do it properly. Get in here, you git.”

Harry obliged and was quickly on his knees in front of Draco, working kisses up the insides of his thighs as he continued to stroke and tease. It wasn’t long before the blonde had come completely undone from the ministrations of his tongue and fingers. He stood up and kissed Draco, his own cock still hard and wanting.

“I love you.”

“I know you do.” Draco replied. It wasn’t what Harry wanted to hear, but he knew it was the best he was going to get. Then Draco turned his attentions Harry’s body and made him feel everything that he wouldn’t say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So most of the places I've described in this work, and in most of my other pieces or writing are real places. The tea shop is one in North London that I absolutely adore. They're closed at the moment due to Covid, but if anyone is ever in the Palmer's Green area I would absolutley reccomend it. Their menu of teas is amazing, as are their scones. The same is true of the park I describe in this chapter and the one in the previous one, along with the brief history of the hospital Draco gives. The odeon cinema I talk about is a special place for me. It was demolished several years ago, taking with it a piece of history and a building that the Beatles once played in, but the dancing ladies were saved and are now displayed by the new cinema.


	5. Final Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco continue to go round in circles and repeat the same mistakes.

It was easier than Harry thought it would be to keep up the pretence. Nothing much had actually changed. He still had his routine of friends, work, the Weasleys, and Teddy. Ginny pestered him for a more physical relationship, especially when they were alone, but he somehow managed to put her off, saying he wasn’t ready. That he was still dealing with everything he’d been through in the last year. She wasn’t happy about it, he knew that, but she didn’t push him much further than kissing. Things between him and Draco were very good though. They mostly stuck to visiting their café and the quiet bar they liked to frequent, occasionally staying the night in the hotel above it. There had also been a few nights in Grimmauld place, although that was risky, as one of Harry’s friends could easily have decided to visit. He had added Draco to the wards though, meaning he could floo straight in if he wanted to. It wasn’t really necessary, but Harry had wanted to. Draco having open access to his home was important to him, in a way he didn’t really understand. They only really ever ended back at Harry’s place when they were both pissed after spending the night in one of the clubs they’d started going to in Camden or Soho, or after they’d been to the Admiral Duncan, which had quickly become a favourite of theirs. These were safe spaces. Where they could enjoy being young and in love in the kind of place that didn’t care that they were two men out together. Where they wouldn’t be recognised as Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. The intoxication and lust that went hand in hand with those nights, meant that falling into bed together was inevitable, and Grimmauld was close and convenient. 

They also visited various tourist attractions around England. Walks through the Cotswolds or the Peak district; a day looking round Roman archaeology followed by an afternoon relaxing in one of spas in Bath; whatever took their fancy. They’d both been mesmerised by the University buildings and museums in Oxford. Harry had like the Pitt Rivers, with its odd collection of artifacts, but it had been the dining hall in Christ Church college that had enraptured Draco. Harry had loved the delight on Draco’s face as he’d walked in. He’d described it as walking into a memory, but without the painful history associated with it. Harry could understand that. It felt so familiar there, like the Great Hall at Hogwarts. He could imagine they were back at school, only this time instead of scowling at each other from opposite tables, they were walking hand in hand. Despite the familiarity, there were enough differences for him, that he wasn’t haunted by faces of the dead lying on the floor, as he had to face whenever he’d been dragged back to Hogwarts. They had five months of this happy equilibrium before things changed again. Before the war and its consequences for the two of them reared its ugly head.

The happy limbo they’d both been living in was coming to an end. The first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, and the end of Draco’s probation were rapidly approaching. They were lying in the bed of their usual hotel. Both of them blissed out in post coital exhaustion.

“I should probably head home.” Draco said, disrupting the mood.

“Why? Give me a few more minutes and I’ll be up for another round.” Harry teased and nibbled at Draco’s ear.

“And I thought I was insatiable?”

“Would you want me any other way?”

Draco climbed over Harry and kissed him, hard. Grinding into him and beginning to rouse his spent cock into a new round of attention. The pressure lifted all too soon for Harry’s liking.

“No. But I still have to go.” Draco said, climbing off him and starting the search for his clothes.

“Spoilsport.”

“I know, I know. But mother wants me home to talk about my marriage contract.”

Harry sat up. All of the affection and calm he’d felt only moments before leaving his body. Draco had mentioned months ago about the expectation on him to marry some appropriate woman, but he’d thought they’d moved passed that. He grabbed Draco’s wrist and pulled him back onto the bed.

“What do you mean by a marriage contract?”

“What do you think I mean? Mother wants me to get married. She’s in talks with the Greengrass’ at the moment. Trying and work something out with their youngest.”

“But… what about us…?” Harry pleaded. He couldn’t believe Draco was talking so coolly and collectedly about this.

“This is a fantasy Potter. I’ve always known I’d have to marry some woman and produce an heir. You’ve joked often enough about the Weasleys hinting at you and the girl Weasley you’re dating, getting married. How is this different?”

“Because I was never going to do it. You sound like you’re actually serious about this.”

“I am serious.”

“Why?”

“What else am I supposed to do? However much being together is making us happy in the short term, we both know we’re not going to live happily ever after. Eventually the secrecy is going to drive us insane and make us miserable. Mother wants me to get married. It will make her happy to have grandchildren running around the Manor. I want that for her.”

“What if we could make this work long term? Would your mother accept me? Would that make you happier than living another false life? Because that’s what you would be doing if you married some woman.” This was something that had been playing on Harry’s mind more and more. His world revolved around the blonde man and he wasn’t about to give it up without a fight. The image of Draco with a beautiful young woman was distressing, and he hated that this was even an option.

“She probably would. But my family aren’t the deciding factor here. My mother knows I’m gay and any marriage I have with a woman will be one of convenience. If I told her I wanted to marry a man then she’d accept that, even if it would be more difficult and mean going against tradition. You being that man wouldn’t be a problem either. She likes you well enough and have more than enough prospects from her point of view.”

Harry started grasping at straws. “We could tell people.” Draco scoffed at this. Harry knew exactly why. His side of the war were the sticking point and had been since the beginning. Ever since the day Draco bumped into them in Diagon Alley, he knew that neither his family nor the public would be accepting of this relationship. Even when Draco came off probation, and Harry would at least not be breaking at least a dozen departmental rules by being with Draco, their relationship wouldn’t just be frowned upon, people would actively try and tear them apart. The risk to Draco’s safety would be enormous. If it had been him alone that was likely to end up hurt, then he’d take the chance any day in order for this relationship to be real, but he couldn’t do it to Draco. “Fine, we can’t tell people. But we could leave. Go somewhere where no one cares.”

“You can’t just up and leave Potter.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the Golden Boy. There is a even a sodding Ministry event, with you as the guest of honour to prove that, happening in less than a week.”

“I don’t care about any of that. I care about you.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t care about me. Maybe you should just forget all about this sordid little affair and go and marry little miss Weasel. You’ll be an auror with three perfect little Potter heirs. The whole world will look at you like the sun shines out of your arse. Just look at the papers lauding your relationship with the red head. That’s the life you’re meant to have.”

“It’s not the life I want.” Harry said desperately but knowing that there was nothing he could say to change Draco’s mind. Hating that the man had resorted to his school yard tone to try and make Harry give up his argument.

“It doesn’t matter what you want though. The only place where you can have what you want is in this fantasy bubble we’ve created. It can’t last.”

Draco knew how to hit all of his buttons. Harry knew that he was doing it on purpose, trying to provoke him into leaving. Part of it was Draco’s insecurity. Part of it was trying to protect himself. Harry knew that their relationship had gotten far deeper than either of them had meant. As much as he wanted to avoid falling into the trap, Harry couldn’t help it. There was something about being told what he should or shouldn’t feel, or that he had no control over his life. It was something Harry had to deal with from everyone else almost continuously. With other people he clenched his teeth and pushed through, often imagining what Draco would say when he told him about the latest idiot who thought they could dictate Harry’s life. It felt different when it was coming from Draco though. It hurt infinitely more. He bit back, wanting Malfoy to feel the same pain he was now feeling. He couldn’t be in this room with him any longer. 

“I thought you were different. I thought you felt… well I guess it doesn’t matter now. Clearly, I was mistaken. You’re just the same arrogant arsehole you were in school. Everyone else thinks you are, so it must have been me in the wrong. I don’t want to see you again. I’ll file the reports for the last month but I’m not coming to the Manor.” Harry threw himself out of the bed and started scrabbling for his clothes. He dressed as quickly as he could, not wanting Draco to see the tears welling up in his eyes. He slammed the door of the room shut as he stormed out. Not looking back. Knowing if he did, if he glimpsed the blonde man, he was leaving behind for just one second, he’d be unable to leave.

__________________

Harry’s dress robes were uncomfortable. There was no reason for them to be. They were expensive and tailored to fit him perfectly, but somehow, they felt two sizes too small and made from cheapest, nastiest material he could imagine. He knows it’s in his head, but it makes him feel antsy. That he’s going to spend the whole evening on display is probably adding to his distress. He’d apparated with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to Hogsmeade station. The vultures from press were all waiting there, ready to pounce. Desperate to get a photo of the Golden Trio, and the perfect couple, as they wait to take the Thestral drawn carriages up to Hogwarts. Harry doesn’t hear the conversation between the other three, as they travel through the village and up through the gates to the school that was once his home. The days since he’d last seen Draco were taking their toll. Then on top of all he was already dealing with, the news of the pub bombing, only a few days earlier, had shaken him. Him and Malfoy had been in there only a few weeks ago and now, some sick bastard had managed to kill three people, and injured more than 50 others, in a place he’d once felt safe. Draco was right about there being no where they could be accepted. They weren’t even safe in the muggle world, it seemed. The reports of the hate crime had helped him retain his conviction that he and Malfoy couldn’t be together. Once he was removed from the situation, he had forgiven Draco, mostly, for his heartless words. When he wasn’t feeling hurt by the other man, it was easier to understand why he had done it and agree with the logic. Still, the decision he’d made after that last disastrous fight with Draco, was weighing ever more heavily on his mind. He tried to tell himself that he was doing it to protect Draco, not that he simply couldn’t perceive any other option. It was like Draco had said, if he couldn’t be happy, at least everyone else could.

They arrived at the school and he exited the carriage. He offered his hand to Ginny to help her down. She did look beautiful tonight. She was in a silver dress with royal blue trimming, perfectly complementing her complexion. Her long red hair had been professionally styled, and effortlessly curled across her shoulders and down her back. She was the perfect date to have on his arm. He looked over at Ron, who was now helping Hermione out of the carriage. He wished he could feel half the enraptured love that he saw in his best friend’s eyes as he looked Hermione. If it were Draco here tonight, maybe he would, but instead it was Ginny. The person everyone expected him to be with. The Great Hall was decked out spectacularly. It was unrecognisable from the last time he’d been in there. Witches, wizards, creatures, beings, and everything in between filled the room. There was no sign of the four house tables, that signified the separation, and rivalry, that was drilled into the eleven-year olds when they were first sorted. Round tables were scattered around the edges of the room, leaving the centre open as a dance floor. The teachers table was still there on the dais though, and Harry knew his seat would be there. Where everyone could look up and stare at him. The table plan confirmed his suspicions. Ginny, Hermione, and Ron were up their too as well as the dozen or so other people deigned important enough for the honour of the head table. He took Ginny’s hand and led her up to their seats. Even if he couldn’t feel it, he could outwardly portray that he was the perfect boyfriend.

Harry chatted inconsequently to the woman on his right, some witch from the International Confederation of Wizards of import in the Wizangamot, waiting for the proceedings to start. Ginny was on his other side talking to Ron. Ginny’s hand was on his knee, kneading at his thigh. The small box in his right pocket was providing a constant, unpleasant pressure. Burning and nagging at him the whole time he was sat there waiting, just at it had been doing since he’d bought the wretched thing. Eventually everyone was seated, and McGonagall started the event with a short speech about the importance of cooperation and unity. It’s tripe. He knows it’s tripe. It’s the same bullshit Dumbledore used to give them, that he’d bought so easily back then. The night on the astronomy tower and Draco lowering his wand flashes through his thoughts. Dumbledore hadn’t offered Draco sanctuary until the last possible moment, once it was already too late. Bile rose to his throat as he remembered. If McGonagall were truly sincere, he would have seen some of his own Slytherin year mates among the crowd, but they were all conspicuously absent. Green and silver were not welcome at this celebration. Food appeared in front of them all once the headteacher finished, giving him an excuse to not talk whilst he eats. He’s dreading what comes next. His own speech. His own idea to cement the separation between him and Draco. 

All too soon for his liking, desert is finished, and the leftovers are vanished from the table by the host of house elves working in the kitchens below. That they aren’t present bothers at him as much as the absence of Slytherins. It makes him thinks of the elves at the Manor and their devotion to Draco. The pleasure they got out of doing things to make his life better, and how much they appreciated knowing that their worth and work was valued. The Hogwarts elves would be equally devoted. They were certainly equally deserving, if not more, of a place at the festivities as the unknown witches and wizards sat around him. It was like everyone had forgotten how important Dobby was in winning the war, of the house elves coming to the defence of the castle. The same way they’d forgotten Snape’s efforts. It didn’t suit the political climate, so it was swept under the rug. He knew his friends would support him if he spoke up for house elves in his speech though. They wouldn’t act the same if he bought up Slytherins. That knowledge left him with a less than comforting feeling.

Harry stood and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to speak, but it was expected of him. He was the fucking saviour. He hadn’t even been allowed to write the thing. Kingsley and Hermione had been responsible for the content. He spoke about unity, rehashing the crap McGonagall had said in the most part. He spoke about the end of prejudice. He didn’t believe a word of it. Those were things that were lost to him now. His life would now be entirely dictated by other people’s wants and needs. His own thoughts and desires, even his own happiness, would be of no consequence. He reached the end of the prepared speech and received a loud round of applause and cheer. He looked over at the cluster of red heads, sat near the front as he waited for the applause to die down. He was meant to have sat down at this point but remained standing.

“I have something else to say to all of the venerable people in front of me.” Every part of his being screamed at him to stop, but he couldn’t. The last fight with Draco had made it clear that this was the only way forward. “Without the devotion, even in absence, of the woman next to me, I would not have made it through the horrific year leading up to the final battle.” The insincerity of the words tasted fetid. Like his tongue was rotting at the betrayal of his own wants. “Therefore, in front of every being and creature here in this hall, I would like to declare my own devotion to her.” Wishing that he would spontaneously combust, so he wouldn’t have to take the next step, Harry moved onto one knee and pulled the box out of his pocket. The box that contained the hateful ring he’d bought. “Ginevra Weasley, would you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?”

“Congratulations, Harry.” Hermione threw her arms around him. “I’m so happy for you.”

“This is amazing, mate. We’re really going to be brothers now.”

Ron’s wide grin was full of the sincerity of his words. Harry had to plaster his own poor copy of a grin on to his face. This was why he’d done this after all. To make his friends and family happy. Still, the reality of the situation was leaving him feeling even more bitter than he was before.

“I’m going to go grab us all some champagne.” Harry says and turns and walks away, leaving Ron and Hermione talking excitedly to Ginny. He couldn’t cope with the unbounded joy directed at him.

Harry proceeded to spend the night getting increasingly drunk, grateful for the open bar. Every time some new person came and told him how wonderful it is that he and Ginny are getting married, he found his glass had miraculously emptied itself down his throat without him noticing, resulting in him almost constantly needing new drinks. They all keep telling him how perfect it all is. That he’s sending a marvellous message to the world about moving past the dark times. The irony of the situation isn’t lost on him, even with his alcohol addled brain. He and Ginny end up staying in his hotel room in Hogsmeade, together. The room has been decked out with roses and candles, a banner congratulating them on their engagement above the bed. ‘Good news travels fast’. The thought is hateful and acrid. As is the knowledge of what he’s expected to do next. The alcohol on board helps when it comes to having sex with Ginny. Her body isn’t what he wants, but he pushes through. He wonders how he managed to get through the first, and only other time he had sex with her, or at least when he assumes he had sex with her. He still has no memories of that night, and probably never will; it’s not like he’s going to ask her what happened. The fact is, he’s glad most of the time he doesn’t remember, and almost wishes he were backout drunk now. That he didn’t have to be present in this moment. That she seems so happy makes him feel even more miserable. He wishes he could just love her like he was supposed to. She’s beautiful and he’d thought he loved her once. His teenage infatuation with this girl was watery and pale, compared to what he felt for the blonde bastard who’d broken his heart, even if it was for the right reasons. He doesn’t want to think about Malfoy. It hurts too much. So he does the only thing he can think of, he makes Ginny feel loved and wanted, trying to trick his own mind and body into believing that this can make him happy.

The next month was a blur of wedding arrangements. Molly had decided that they had to get married in October, so there was less than 6 months to get everything planned. Harry let himself get swept up in it, so as not to have to think about Malfoy and how much he was missing him. The only time he let himself think of the blonde man was when he wrote and filed the weekly reports. However much he was hurting, he wasn’t letting the Ministry use Malfoy as a scapegoat and lock him away. It wasn’t just that he was hopelessly in love with the prat, but he objectively didn’t think he deserved it. He hadn’t thought Malfoy had deserved Azkaban a year ago, and their time together had only cemented that conviction. The Ministry had asked him to show Malfoy the muggle world, and make sure that he behaved appropriately around them. To make sure that he wasn’t secretly still harbouring the spiteful prejudices his father had spoon-fed him from before he could speak. That had been the brief, even if it wasn’t the underlying reason for the task. Even from an outsider’s perspective, no one could deny that Draco hadn’t successfully achieved all that had been set. More than that, he knew without a doubt that his Draco, wasn’t the person everyone thought he was in the slightest. This was the last thing he could do to try and make his life a little easier. The day the final report was due in, he had one last meeting with Kingsley to talk over Malfoy’s progress. He wasn’t looking forward to it. He never liked these meetings but this time it felt worse. Final. The fantasy reports were the last connection he had to Draco. He didn’t know what he would do when they were gone.

“Harry, come in. Congratulations by the way, sorry I haven’t manged to speak to you before now, I had to leave the Anniversary event early, but I was so pleased to hear about your engagement to Miss Weasley. I know you’ve always considered the Weasleys family. It must be wonderful to be making it official. Have you set a date yet?”

“October 16th. Molly should be sending round the invitations soon. We’d both be really happy if you could come. I know you’re incredibly busy, but you were a good friend to the family during the war, and it would mean the world to them, to us, if you could be there.” Harry was getting better and better at saying what he was supposed to without really thinking about it.

“I wouldn’t miss it. I shall look forward to receiving my invite. Now, however much I’d prefer to talk about your upcoming nuptials, we should get to the business at hand. I have a meeting with the infuriating head of creature liaisons in half an hour and I’m not looking forward to it. But it can’t be avoided so we can’t spend all day catching up. I’ve read your final report on Mr Malfoy. Do you really feel he has been rehabilitated enough to be able to come off probation?”

“I do sir. He’s shown nothing but remorse for his actions in helping Lord Voldemort. He has been accepting of going to a multitude of muggle venues and interacting with muggles in general. If he still holds any prejudice against them, or muggleborns, which I don’t believe he does, he will not speak or act on those feelings. He just wants to get on with his life.” Harry wished, as he said these last words, that Draco and he could have the freedom to move forward with their lives they actually wanted, instead of this weak imitation. That Draco’s freedom from the probation restrictions would mean he’d no longer have to walk around feeling empty.

“Very well Harry, this was not the outcome I expected. I would have thought… well that doesn’t matter now. I will go with your recommendations. Mr Malfoy’s probation is lifted. I just hope you’re not wrong and we don’t all live to regret it. Now, will you take this letter to the post room and have it sent off to Mr Malfoy to inform him of the good news.”

When Kingsley handed Harry the sealed letter, and he knew he wouldn’t be taking it to the post room. This letter wouldn’t turn up at the Manor with some random owl, impersonally informing Draco that he was finally a free man. 

“I will. Good luck with your next meeting, I should be heading back before Robards accuses me of slacking off again.”

“Very well, Harry. Off with you. And congratulations again.”

Harry doesn’t care about Robards chastising him for missing work. He’s been much more diligent about being here in the last few weeks anyway. He heads straight to the lobby and the apparition point. He pulls out his phone and texts Draco as he’d walking. It’s like déjà vu. The same as the last time he’d felt the desolation of Draco trying to break it off. 

_I’ve something important to give you. Café. BTW I’m an idiot and I miss you._

Harry nearly didn’t send the last part of the message. It was self-indulgent. After all that had happened over the last month he knew, even if Draco still had any feelings for him, Harry didn’t deserve him. Still, he had to let Draco know that he was still thinking of him. That he was still important. 

Their usual waitress was pleased to see him as he entered the familiar teashop. It had been a while since he and Draco had last been here. It was only open during the day, and with Ginny back from school only at the weekends and his work schedule, weekday outings had become more infrequent, even before the two of them cut off contact. She showed him to their usual table, before bringing over his favourite Assam and a slice of coffee and walnut cake. He picked at the buttercream with his fork, whilst waiting. Toying with the food. He didn’t know how long he’d be left here anticipating Draco’s arrival, but expected the other man wouldn’t appear anytime soon, if at all. Five minutes after he arrived, he saw the familiar blonde walk past the window. He’d wondered whether Draco would hover outside, like last time, but was surprised to see him enter without so much as hesitating on the doorstep. He sat down opposite Harry. He looked a little thinner than when Harry had last seen him. Deep circles under his eyes told of lack of sleep. He was more like the Draco from a year ago than the one who’d slowly been getting healthier over their time together. To Harry’s eyes, he was still just as devastating. Still as beautiful as ever. His longing for the blonde man had not abated slightly in the month’s absence.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“But you’re here.” Harry said, full of hope for what this might mean.

“To my detriment no doubt.”

Harry drunk in the sight of the man he was in love with. There was no way he could doubt how he felt now. Being in his presence, he could breathe again. No longer felt like he was drowning under the weight of everyone around him. It was only now, in its absence, that he was able to comprehend the pressure his dejection and dissatisfaction at life was putting on him. Even with Draco looking at him with coolness in his eyes, just being with the man, was enough for him to feel fractionally more alive.

“I’ve got the official documents releasing you from your probation. Kingsley gave it to me today. You’re free again.”

Harry started with the excuse he’d given himself for arranging this meeting. He handed over the letter and watched as Draco broke open the seal and read. He expected a smile. Some kind of reaction that told him Draco was pleased that his probation was over. Draco kept up the polar façade.

“Well if that’s all, I should probably go.” Draco started to stand, but Harry grabbed his wrist to stop him. He needed the mask to drop. He couldn’t have his last interaction be with the ice dragon he was currently confronted with. He wanted to see the real Draco. Only getting half the man wasn’t enough. The problem was, he didn’t know whether anything would ever be enough.

“Please don’t leave Draco. Not yet.”

“Harry…don’t do this again.” That Draco had used his first name told Harry that he was as affected as he was. Draco rarely called him Harry, and it usually only slipped out when he was feeling overwhelmed by his own emotions.

“I know I’ve fucked everything up. I was so cross with you, even though I understand why you said what you did. And then I went out and did the stupidest thing I could think of. I just wanted to blot out the pain being without you. But I don’t know whether I can live just to make other people happy. I love you. You’re a giant fucking prat with as many issues as I have, but I love you in spite of and because of all of it.”

“You need to stop this Potter. It doesn’t matter anymore. It doesn’t matter that you love me. It doesn’t matter how I feel. We can’t be together. Aren’t the papers celebrating your upcoming nuptials with the Weasley girl, enough to tell you that? What do you think they’d all be saying if it was us? Do you think they’d all be celebrating? Do you think your family would be smiling and happy at the thought of us together?”

“I know, but I don’t care.” Desperation filled every syllable.

“You should care. There is nowhere we can be openly together. We can’t spend our whole lives sneaking around everyone’s backs. Pretending to be people we’re not. I won’t do that to me. And I certainly won’t condemn you to that fate. That’s not your life Harry.”

“Being away from you is hell. Nobody else sees me like you do. You’re the only person on this planet that can actually see who I am.”

“You know that’s not enough. Maybe if you spoke to your friends about how you’re feeling they might get it.”

“They won’t. They all have this idea of me, and I’m not allowed to step out of the lines of their expectations. I’d rather leave them all behind. I don’t know how much longer I can manage like this.”

Harry watched as Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking again. As if his next words were going to be difficult to get out.

“Potter, you cannot run away from your whole life just to be with a washed-up Death Eater. One day, probably sooner rather than later, you’d regret it. They are your family, and if you let them in, maybe it won’t all seem so bleak.”

“We could run though.” Last time it had been a spur of the moment thought, not really meant. Now it was rapidly becoming the only thing that made sense. “We have more than enough money to hide for years, decades, forever if necessary. I don’t think I can stay away from you again.”

“That’s not the point. Running can’t be an option. You would regret hurting all those people that love you. The most we can ever be is friends, and even that is a long shot. You know no one will ever truly accept me in your life, in any capacity. Shit Harry, I don’t want to stay away from you either but we’re not good for each other. I’m willing to try and just be your friend. Still meet up for coffee every now and then. But it can’t be like this.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough.” Harry felt like his insides were being torn out as Draco had talked about being friends. 

“It’s the best we can do.” Draco had tears running down his face. As if he was just as pained about never being able to be together, as Harry felt. Harry had to force himself to say his next words. Tell himself that this was better than nothing. Living without Draco was too painful, it had only taken seeing him again to realise that.

“Fine. If that’s the only way I can have you then we can try. I…just…please… Can you kiss me one last time?” Harry couldn’t let the last time they kissed, be the last time.

Draco stood up and walked over to Harry. He tilted Harry’s face up towards him and gently kissed him. It was sweet and soft. Both of their tears mingle. When he moves away, Harry feels bereft. Draco walks out of the café without looking back or saying another word.

Harry knows he should leave. The Weasleys are expecting him soon to look at wedding venues, but he can’t move. He sits slumped at the table crying. 

“Are you okay? Did you have another fight with your boyfriend?” The waitress asks kindly. The café is pretty much empty at the moment, just a middle-aged woman and her dog sitting in the far corner. Harry decides to open up to this not quite stranger. It’s not like he could feel any worse.

“You could say that.”

“I’m sure it’ll all work out eventually. It might look crap now, but you don’t know what tomorrow will be like.” It was far too optimistic a sentiment, but Harry wanted to believe it.

“It’s just my family will never accept him.” Harry didn’t know quite why he was telling this muggle, who was hardly more than a stranger, about his and Draco’s issues but he felt better speaking it out loud.

“Is it the whole homosexual thing. I know that can be tricky. My best friend was kicked out of home when he came out to his family.”

“It’s not that. I’m actually pretty certain my family would be alright with me being with a man, well apart from the fact that I’ve just gotten engaged to my best friend’s sister.” Harry has to laugh out loud at how ridiculous this sounds. “The main problem is, it that my family and his have historically hated each other. It’s not just him, it goes back generations. If they knew I even considered him a friend they’d think he’d done something to trick me into it. As far as they’re concerned, he’s an unrepentant criminal, with no redeeming qualities.”

“Your man doesn’t seem like a criminal but it’s all very Romeo and Juliet. Although I’m not sure I can be supportive of you being engaged to someone else, while you’re very clearly in love with, and in an intimate relationship with, the blonde man. Sorry I can’t remember his name.”

“Draco. And I know I shouldn’t be using her like this. The problem is that I feel like I’ve had my whole life mapped out for me, and getting married to Ginny, that’s her name, is one of the steps everyone expects me to take.”

“You don’t have to do things just because everyone tells you you should. My parents spent years telling me I was going to grow up to be a doctor but all I wanted to do was draw and make things. Here I am now, studying art and design at University and working in a teashop; spending my evenings teaching rich young mums to draw and sew in the evening.”

“I guess. It’s just hard to step away when you’re in the middle of it.” This muggle hadn’t told Harry anything he didn’t already know. But at least he knew now, he wasn’t the only one who had expectations piled on him. He’d spent so long thinking he was the exception, and that no one else had this pressure put on them. It was a relief to realise other people could feel this way. “I should really go now. I was meant to be meeting my fiancée and future in laws ten minutes ago. Thank you for talking to me though. Surprisingly, I actually feel a little better.”

“Go on then, off with you. Just promise me you’ll be back to tell me how this all works out. I’m rooting for you and your pretty blonde man.”

_________________

Draco had really meant to stay away from Harry. The last month had felt like torture and he’d almost messaged him half a dozen times before thinking better of it. The news of Harry’s engagement to the Weaselette bitch had hurt, more than he wanted to admit. He had resisted. He had told Harry to get on with his life and he was doing just that. Mother had been pestering him about his own plans, as well as constantly reminding him how well the contract arrangements with the Greengrass’ were going. Still, he found himself spending more and more time in his library sanctuary, curled up on his chair. Remembering the times when things were simple, or at least simpler, between him and Harry. When Harry had been the only bright spot in his otherwise bleak and desolate existence. Then Harry had messaged him. For a second, he had thought about resisting, but the urge to see Harry was too strong. Seeing Harry hadn’t helped, it had only amplified the pain of what he needed to do. Harry had handed him the papers to his freedom. Had told him in no uncertain terms that he wanted him. That he would be willing to give up everything just to be with him. But he couldn’t let him do that. Harry was meant for more than a depressed criminal that would cause, not only his family, but the whole world to actively reject him. He knows he should go tell his mother the good news at his release from probation, but he doesn’t feel like facing her. His house feels too big. Oppressive. Trying to act positive in front of his is more than he can cope with, with every ounce of his soul wanting to be with Harry. He heads to his library. The only truly safe place he has left.

______________

“Draco,, get out of that damned chair. You have barely moved in the last week.”

Draco turned to look at his mother. He felt stiff and dirty. He hadn’t realised he’d spent that long engulphed by the black cloud that was never far from overwhelming him. Time didn’t move how it usually did when he ended up in this state. A week felt like both an eternity and no time at all when he was trapped in his own head.

“I’ve arranged a session with a therapist. I can’t see you like this anymore. You won’t talk to me, but I’ll be damned if I see you just give up on life. Go get in the shower. Your appointment is in an hour. It’s in Italy, so you’ll need to use the private Floo connection to the cottage in the alps before apparating there. Thank god the Aurors, or the Dark Lord, never found out about our international Floo.”

It was a fair point. The Manor had had a Floo connection to their various properties around the world for centuries. When the international regulations on Floo travel had come in, the head of the family at the time had greased a lot of palms to keep their connection secret and open. The room with the fireplace couldn’t even be sensed unless the head of the family brought the person into the room themselves. It was possible to key others into the room’s wards, but it was a complicated procedure, usually only done for the spouses of the Lord of the Manor, and not always even then. Draco hadn’t known about the room and the fireplace until Lucius had been convicted and he’d been made head of the family by default. It was an untraceable escape route. One that he’d only not used due to his requirement for regular check ins over the last year. If anyone had found out about the, not exactly legal, international connection, it would have meant no end of trouble for the family. Especially on top of all the other disasters they were already trying to manage.

“Mother, I don’t think I can today. I’m tired.” Draco tried to dissuade his mother, although he sincerely doubted he’d be successful. Truly, he didn’t know why he bothered. It was normally just easier to acquiesce to her wishes, especially when she was like this.

“I don’t care if you’re tired. If you got up and moved, you’d probably be less tired in any case. Shower. Now.”

Draco did as he was told. It was easier following direct instructions than making the decision to undertake tasks of his on volition. Standing under the hot water, he did actually feel better, despite the dizziness the lack of food was causing, but he wasn’t going to admit his mother was right. He got dressed in clean clothes and reluctantly made his way through the house, to the room with the Floo that would allow him to head straight to Italy. His mother had given him the location of the therapist’s office, it was somewhere in Tuscany, in an exclusive village with very restricted access. He’d been informed that he would have to apparate outside the place and the guards would let him. He wasn’t looking forward to interacting with other wizards, but his mother had assured him that it wasn’t the same on the continent as in England. He’d only had one interaction with wizards, apart from Harry, in the last year, and it hadn’t left him with pleasant memories. If the guards treated him like that, he didn’t believe his mother wouldn’t blame him if he turned straight round and came back home. He knew if he didn’t at least try, and she would know, she always did, she would just take him there herself. The last thing he wanted was to be physically dragged into a wizarding village to see a therapist by his mother. He wasn’t a child anymore. It had been humiliating enough when he was eight to be forced to go places for his own good by his caring, if a little overbearing, mother.

The therapy session went better than expected. There had been no disdainful looks at the gate or as he walked through the village to the office. It had actually been a relief to talk to someone about the disaster of his mind. His therapist had also given him a regime of potions to take, to help with his sleep, anxiety, and general low mood. He wasn’t so sure about them, but he wasn’t completely averse to trying. He was due back in a week, and if he didn’t like what they did, he would just tell the man he wouldn’t take them. Rather than heading straight back to the Manor, Draco decided to take a walk around the area. It was a beautiful place. It screamed wealth, but he was used that. There was a park in the centre of the village and sat down on one of the benches, taking the time to admire his surroundings. It was the first time in far too long, he didn’t feel threatened by witches and wizards who might notice him. He wished he could just move here. He supposed he could now. He’d been given his freedom back. If he wanted to live abroad and not deal with the turmoil and guilt being in England and the Manor brought, he didn’t have to. The only things stopping him were his mother, and Potter. And that was the problem really. No matter what he said to Harry, he couldn’t escape the draw between the two of them. He knew he’d go back to England and the next time Harry messaged him, as he no doubt would, he would run straight back into his arms. Over the last year, his entire wellbeing had been dependant on the scruffy Gryffindor he’d foolishly fallen in love with. That the idiot had fallen for him too only compounded his problems. Maybe next week he would open up to man who’d agreed to try and help him through his issues, for a significant fee, about Harry. Maybe if he did, he’d be able to escape the gravitational pull Potter had on him.

“Draco?” The voice pulled him from his introspection. “Draco Malfoy. Damn, it’s really you.”

“Zabini? What are you doing here?”

“I live here. How the hell are you here? I thought you were stuck in England, enjoying the delights of the prejudiced shits that think being in Slytherin automatically makes us untrustworthy bastards.”

Draco felt ashamed that his actions had driven his fellow housemates from their homes. It had played a significant role in his avoidance of them. He might feel like he deserved, at least some of, the spiteful hatred thrown his way, but they didn’t. Blaise’s friendly demeanour seemed to indicate that he was no way near as bothered at Draco having been part of the cause of his, and the other Slytherins, unofficial exile as he’d been assuming and which had been fuelling a large proportion of his guilt. He made the decision to take his old friend’s geniality at face value.

“Probation finished a week ago.” Draco admitted. 

“It’s good to see you. Although you look pretty terrible.”

“Thanks Blaise. And it’s been a crap year.” Blaise’s bluntness was comfortingly familiar and made him realise how much he’d missed the company of his own friends. He’d shut out pretty much everyone from his life in sixth year, not wanting to drag them into the horror that he was living through. Although he’d used Vince and Greg as lookouts, he’d never told them what he was doing in order to try and protect them. Not that it had mattered, Greg and Vince had been dragged into it by their fathers’ eventually. As for his other year mates, in his house, only Theo had also had direct Death Eater links. He had only escaped by the skin of his teeth and a kindly Aunt in France. He’d been able to run to when his bastard of a father attempted to follow in Lucius’s footsteps and tried to force him into the Dark Lords service. Greg had managed to avoid the worst of the fallout as he’d never been deemed worthy of receiving the Mark, the despicable image that was still unnervingly visible on his own pale arm, but Vince had died. It had been partly his own stupidity and viciousness that had caused it, but Draco still felt bad. Vince had been too like his father. Too willing to hurt others to get his own way. Greg was always the gentler of the two. He hadn’t been made of the right material to follow the Dark Lord, the same as Draco. He’d always been too gentle, although no one outside of their group of friends had ever seen that side of him. The rest of them had always shielded Greg. If anyone had known how vulnerable the large boy had been, it would have been disastrous. House rivalries were not kind to Slytherins. They had to protect their own. He had been glad when he heard Greg had gotten off with just a caution and a warning to stay away from England. He hadn’t actually been banned from the country, neither had the rest of Slytherin house for that matter, but it may as well have been an official exile. Draco wished he’d received the same sentence, maybe if he had he wouldn’t be quite the mess he was now. He would have avoided the year with Harry and all of the chaos that was causing his mind. He also wouldn’t have had Harry to drag him back to life either. Maybe the pain he was feeling was worth it compared to spending his whole life locked in his own nightmares.

“Well, you’re going to have come back to mine and tell me all about it. I’ve missed your arrogant arse. We all have.”

“All?”

“Me, Pans, Theo… even Greg’s missed you.”

“Do you all live here?” It didn’t seem likely, but bumping into Blaise was such a bizarre coincidence, that he couldn’t dismiss it as beyond the realm of possibilities.

“Gods no. It’s just me here, but they visit. Pansy and Theo are in Paris, and Greg is currently living in Berlin, working in a small Bakery. He always sends the best cakes. Come and have a drink with me. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Draco had spent the night at Blaise’s in the end, drinking and talking until the early hours of the morning. He’d sent his mother an owl telling her he wouldn’t be back until the morning. He’d sent it when he made the decision to stay, not long after Blaise had cracked open a bottle of rum. It was the first time he’d had fun, without Harry, in more than three years. Blaise had made him promise to come back soon. Tempting him with promises of delectable sweet, fresh baked goods as soon as Greg sent a new batch. He would have come back just for Blaise’s company; he didn’t need the bribe. After agreeing to visit again, he’d admitted he was going to be in the village every week for the foreseeable future, as his therapist was based here. Blaise hadn’t mocked him, as he feared, for talking to someone about the trauma he’d been through. Instead he was supportive and kind. He wished Draco luck with trying to deal with what had been a really shit lot in life. Blaise’s kindness was so unexpected that Draco had started crying uncontrollably, and he had had to be helped to bed not long after. The emotional swings, and in particular highs he wasn’t used to, combining with the alcohol had been too much. 

His life changed. Slowly but surely. He saw Blaise, and sometimes his other friends, once a week, along with his therapist, in Tuscany and started to get his own semblance of self, back together. There was still Potter though. Even with his ever-increasing feelings of self-worth, he wasn’t able to stay away. The day after his third therapy session, a particularly brutal one that had left him feeling dug out and hollow, he was the one who caved and messaged. They had met at their favourite restaurant and after a decadent meal, had relaxed in the spa. Seeing Potter fully dressed Draco had found him hard to resist. The swimming trunks had been too much, and before he knew what was happening, they were booking a room in the attached hotel. The sex was still just as breath taking. Being around Harry, close to him in any way, just as intoxicating. One slip was all it took for them to fall back into their old patterns. Their relationship had changed though. He didn’t know whether it was a conscious effort on his part, but he found he was become more distant whenever they were together. The sharing of joys, jokes, pain, and regret petered out, and at the back of his mind a clock was counting down. Harry’s wedding was approaching. However much he wanted the man, he knew that when Potter was married, this thing that was happening between them would have to stop. That eventually he’d be unable to cope with the deception and secrecy, or Harry would, and they wouldn’t be able to do this any longer. 

They were in the hotel above the bar. The smell of sex permeated the room and the were both naked under the thin sheets. The emotional distance between them was becoming more and more unbearable. Draco knew that the largest contributor to this was his bracing himself for the inevitable break off. That Harry had sensed his distancing himself was obvious, as was his dislike at the fact. Draco knew it would hurt less in the long run if this relationship, if you could even call it that anymore, petered out. It wasn’t healthy. His therapist had told him as much when he’d discussed it with him. Having more in his life than just Harry, he could look at what they were doing far more objectively than he’d been able to a year ago. Still these moments with Harry, where they led quietly next to each other, were still when Draco felt happiest. He loved the feeling of contentment, that he only seemed to feel at these times, as much as he loathed the fact, that by continuing, he was doing nothing more than fuelling a fantasy that was about to go up in smoke.

Draco can feel it. Can feel that Harry is going to try and persuade him again, that they should be together. That them running away together was a viable solution. Draco wanted to believe it. Wanted more than anything just to say yes. To be selfish and give into his own desires. He had to stay strong. Harry had proven, time and time again, that he wasn’t capable. Whatever he said about Draco being all that mattered, he knew it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t let himself think that it was more than a physical reaction to their attraction. Harry had repeatedly told him that he hated the pressure and expectations everyone put on him. Draco couldn’t allow his own desires to put the same pressure on Harry. He didn’t realise that by refusing to acknowledge or consider Harry’s words as a true reflection of his own mind, that he was doing just that. He didn’t trust that Harry could actually be happy in a life with just him. Despite the improvements in his self-esteem, he still couldn’t believe he was worth giving up the world for. It was now only six weeks before the wedding, and the clock was more demanding than ever. Harry was going to ask again, and he was going to have to hurt him once more. If he didn’t, they would end up trapped in this limbo forever. Causing more hurt to each other, and everyone else around them in the long run.

“Why can’t we just run away together. Have all our nights end like this.” Harry murmured into Draco’s ear, and started kissing his neck. This was it. He wanted more time. He wasn’t ready to do this.

“Because it’s not possible. How many times do I have to tell you that this can’t continue forever?”

“At least once more, as always.”

“You’re an idiot, Potter.”

“But I’m yours.”

“No you’re not. Not really.”

“Why can’t I be?”

“Because you’re the Saviour and I’m a criminal who only just scraped his way out of a lifetime sentence in Azkaban. I’m not good for you. And you’re not good for me.” He had to be blunt and direct. To put the mask in place. He couldn’t let Harry know it wasn’t what he wanted.

“I don’t want to be the fucking saviour. I want to be completely selfish for once in my life. To damn everyone’s expectations of me.”

“What about your best friends? Your Family?”

“Sometimes I want to damn them too.”

“Well the world isn’t fair. If the world was fair you would have grown up with a family that loved you, instead of having to forge one with the first people that accepted you. I wouldn’t have had a father that tortured me and forced me to bed the knee to a mad man. If the world was fair, I would be able to walk down Diagon Alley, without being afraid of someone hexing me. I would be able to be seen holding your hand whilst we shopped in Hogsmeade. The world isn’t fair. You are going to marry the Weasley girl in six weeks and be part of the family, like you used to dream of. The public is going to have their great Auror. You can spend your days fighting against evil and catching all of the nasty dark wizards still roaming the country before they force their children to follow in their footsteps. You will have a great life, Harry Potter.”

“And what will you do?”

“I’ll do what is expected of me. I’ll marry Astoria, the arrangements are nearly in place. I’ll have a child who I will raise to not be the horrible bigot I was. I will, fruitlessly no doubt, try and earn back the family respect my father threw away.”

“We’ll be miserable.”

“I’m miserable now.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I have to go. I really can’t do this anymore. You’ll get over this. Get over me. This has to be the last time we see each other.” He’d said it before. More than once. Each time he’d gone back on it, unable to stay away. He just hoped this time could be different.

Draco disapparates from the room, straight to the Manor, unable to look at Harry any longer. Unable to see the hurt in his eyes. He heads straight to the Floo that will take him to Blaise. They’d worked out how to set up a new connection undetectably a few weeks ago. He can now go to Blaise’s directly, without the fuss of having to go via the Alps and through the gates that bar entrance, for the majority, to the village. 

He finds Blaise in the conservatory, reading and drinking a glass of wine, with the sun set showing deep purples and reds through the glass. 

“I sense this is more like a whiskey night, than a wine one.” Blaise says, on seeing the state Draco is in.

“A drink would be good.”

Blaise walks into the house and to the small, but well stocked bar, he keeps. He pours both himself and Draco a generous measure of the rich amber liquid.

“What’s happened? I thought things were going better for you.”

“They were.”

“Then what is it? Someone behave like a prejudiced twat?”

“Nope. I think it’ finally over between me and…”

“The prat you’ve been seeing that you’ve been conspicuously reticent about sharing details.”

“That’s the one.”

“What did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything. I decided to end it. I know it’s not the first time I’ve tried, but I really meant it this time. I can’t do it anymore. He’s getting married in a few weeks.”

“Bastard.”

“Yeah well, we’ve been seeing each other since before him and his fiancée even started dating again. So really I’m just as much of a bastard as he his.”

“Who is he that he gets you this worked up, Draco? Please tell me. I don’t like seeing you this upset.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Draco thinks about not saying. About lying. But he can’t do it any longer. He wants Blaise to know. Wants to be able to talk to his friend about this. “It’s Harry fucking Potter.” 

A silence hangs between them after Draco confesses.

“Shit, you’re serious aren’t you.”

“Like I would joke about this.”

“How the hell did you end up with him? I know you always had a thing for him back in school, but none of us ever thought that it would ever go anywhere.”

“Well it did. He was assigned to keep an eye on me whilst I was on probation. Or more accurately, catch me out and get my arse sent to Azkaban where it belonged. Except his eyes on my arse went in an entirely different direction. We’ve been together since early July. Nineteen Ninety-Eight, less than three fucking months after the end of the fucking war.”

“That’s….. Okay more alcohol is needed, and I want the whole sordid story. No half-truths tonight. Tonight I am getting you pissed and confessional.” This was why Blaise had so rapidly ended up Draco’s closest friend. He was crude and funny, and enjoyable to be around. But that wasn’t it. He was loyal and wouldn’t judge you, even if you were behaving like the largest twat on the planet. As long as you didn’t hurt someone he considered part of his family, which included all of his close friends, he was likable and friendly. He made you wanted to share your darkest secrets. If you earned your way into his inner circle, then he was devotionally loyal. Draco didn’t know what he’d done to earn Blaise’s friendship in this way, but he was so glad he had.

The hangover the next morning had been spectacular, but he felt marginally better at having a friend know the whole truth about what had happened in the last year and half of his life. Someone who took his side without question. Parts of the story had certainly shocked him, and Blaise had been appalled when he’d told him that he’d all but encouraged Harry to get back together with the Weaslette. But he hadn’t condemed Draco for his actions. He’d also promised to be there whenever Draco needed him to help stay away from Harry. With his friend there to back him up, Draco thought this time, he could actually manage the monumental task.

He counted down each day of the next weeks leading up to the wedding, dreading Harry messaging him, and hating himself when he felt disappointed when the end of the day came, and there was no contact. The contracts with the Greengrass girl were coming along nicely. She’d seemed pleasant enough when they’d been introduced again, he barely remembered her from school. They’d walked around the Manor gardens and he explained that although he was happy with the plans to marry her, and to remain faithful, that he would never love her. She didn’t seem as phased as he thought she would have been at the revelation he was gay, but then her older sister knew, so it was unlikely that she had been walking into this arrangement blind. She would probably never love him either. They would co-exist together in this house. They would have a child. They may even become friends. But a true relationship was not something either of them was expecting from this. His mother had known for years he was gay. She’d tried to stop him from telling Astoria at first but couldn’t fault him not wanting to start a life based on a lie. He continued to see his therapist once a week. Having the impartial man in his life had done wonders for his mental health, even if he had decided he detested the potions combination and given that up within the first month, bar taking the anti-anxiety draught when things got really bad. His life without Harry was moving exactly how it should do. But still he couldn’t forget the man. 

_________________

It was the sixth time that day Harry had had to apologise for jumping down the neck of one or other members of his family. Six wasn’t too bad, if he were honest. He’d reached twenty, one day last week, but there were still a few more hours left of today to catch up. Each day that went passed, the strain of not seeing Draco, was showing more and more. The last memory of Draco apparating away still haunted his dreams. Still, he fought the constant urge to contact the man. Draco had been right; they couldn’t be together and trying was just making it harder for the two of them. He didn’t think he could live through trying and being rejected all over again. Six weeks turned into four, turned into two. Now it was the final week before the wedding and Harry felt the weight of everyone’s pressure pushing down on him like Atlas holding up the heavens. He was determined to go through with it though, however horrible it felt. He was making everyone happy, so what did it matter if he wasn’t. When he snapped, he apologised, and everyone was so understanding it made it worse. They _knew_ it was just the stress of getting a wedding planned. He didn’t correct them.

Out of everyone, Ron was the most invested in Harry and Ginny’s relationship. Even more than Ginny, and her radiant joy was obvious to all around her. Ron’s enthusiasm couldn’t be matched, however. He was going to be Harry’s brother, truly and properly, and his ecstatic satisfaction should have been infectious. It would have been infectious had the dread of what he was doing not be stamping all over him. Had he not been completely and irrevocably in love with someone else. Someone who he’d have to tear apart all of the strings that tied him to the family he’d created to be with. The Weasleys didn’t deserve that. They’d taken in the child who’d couldn’t remember what love felt like and welcomed him into their home. He was finally going to complete the bonds that tied them. He was determined. He thought he was determined. Each day that ticked away ate at him. His phone burned in his pocket, calling at him to contact Draco. To try one last time untangle the mess he’d made of everything.

He was sat in the taxi on the way to the club Ron had chosen for his bachelor party. All of the Weasley brothers were there, and the rest of their friends were waiting for them at the venue. This night was about him. But he felt separate from it all. He sat alone, smoking at the table, and knew he couldn’t do it any longer.

______________

_It’s the night before my wedding and I want you._

________________

Every logical thought tells him not to go but he can’t resist. His mother had finalised his engagement that morning. He should be staying as far away from Harry as possible, but despite his best intentions, Draco finds himself apparating from the Manor, via several locations, to the front door of number 12 Grimmauld place. The lights are all out and there is no one there. He should turn around and leave but instead he walks up to the door. It opens to his touch and the wards feel warm and welcoming. The house wants him here. He walks straight upstairs to Harry’s room, ignoring the suits hanging up in the living room and other signs that Harry is imminently getting married. He waits. After tomorrow Harry will be lost to him forever. There will be no more reconciliations. He knows this is a mistake, but this is the last chance he has to be with the man he loves. Tomorrow he’ll change his number and block Harry from the wards at the Manor. He’s proven to himself that he’s not strong enough to resist if Harry contacts him. For tonight though, for the very last night, he’ll be Harry’s and Harry will be his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story part of the story was never meant to end happily. The obsessive dependant love they had for each other, as well as the complete inability to communicate effectively wasn't going to work out well. Luckily they are both still idiots and this isn't the end. The second part was actually the first I wrote and published, the pre and post sections to that story, of which this was the pre, were very much after thoughts because I liked the concept of how two people could turn a disaster into a true relationship, despite going about everything all wrong. I hope anyone who gets this far goes onto read the continuation, where things definately start to improve for the boys.  
> Also if anyone is interested the pub bombing I mentioned was a real event from 1999 and was the last of a series of racist and homophobic bombings that occurred at the time. Look up the Admiral Duncan if you’re interested.


End file.
